Assassin's Creed 3: The Kahnawake Song
by Zipporah.Michel
Summary: "Friends, let's go back to Kahnawake. We will go home to see our loved ones. They will be out for a walk; Up and down the land, waiting for our return..." - Connor Kenway/OC (*SPOILERS, Adult Content, Adult Language, Sexual Themes, Adult Violence)
1. Chapter 1: Wonderland

_ She had long wondered if the events of long ago really took place. Ever since she had come home from practically nowhere did she look to the sky and wonder if all of it was just one big, collective hallucination. She wanted to believe that it was, indeed, a hoax that her mind was playing on her. Yes, it nothing but a trick of the mind on a young girl… right? Her imagination always went wild when there was talk of history and imaged herself there on the great pyramids, in Greek temples, aboard pirate ships, and even fantastical adventures. When she awoke from it all and felt the unsullied stitching along her calves as she stood everyday… it was all real, wasn't it? _She had traveled back in time to 1770 Boston.

* * *

"Hey, Tsipporah (sah-FRAH)!" called out a fellow classmate. A girl of mocha skin and clad in black turned her dark eyes to the familiar voice. Upon finding the source of the noise, she smiled naturally.

"Hey, Angie, you want to go to Nino's today? I heard they have a new sub sandwich today."

"Sorry, no," her companion frowned, "I have dance rehearsal during lunch; Rain check?"

Tsipporah nodded in forgiveness. She knew her friends would always be busy and that there would be a rare occasion for them to have any time for leisure. President's Day was coming up; after all, perhaps they can have lunch together then. She wished they had time to catch up, though. Tsipporah had never stayed with friends for a long time due to past troubles, but was glad to see her friend grow; and what a journey that has been. Their phases branched from having unruly hair, obsessions with pirates and natives, adventuring in "darker-than-black" attire, and militant colloquialisms to fine young ladies. Tsipporah still obsessed over militant subjects, though. The phase of desiring to collect ancient weapons and maybe go to the ancient Mayan Ruins to find treasure hasn't died out.

Angie wandered off to go about her important business, leaving her friend to twiddle with her thumbs. She sighed and sat out in the hallway, watching other students go out to eat in groups. "I… am really bored right now…" she peeked through her lowered lashes to her pocket full of cash. "Eating by myself again…" she stood from her spot and left to eat when she swore someone had called her name.

_"Tsipporah…"_

She blinked once and stopped in her tracks. "Yeah?" she answered clearly for the other to hear, but was only faced with a now barren hallway. Scratching her head, she took one more puzzled look and exited outside. Once out, she gave a Cheshire smile to herself upon realizing how lucky she was to be at a high school that allowed students to go to nearby restaurants instead of eating at the stuffy cafeteria. Across the street she saw the adolescents gather like flies at Nino's. Her grin reached her ears when she saw her elder sister there walking out with a pack of wrapped food.

"Yo," her sister greeted, "Where's Angie?"

"Busy again," Tsipporah answered, hiding her crestfallen face. "Well, she's a dancer. The theater kids are always here day and night, but they give the best shows because of it. You know."

"Yeah… I just wish… well…" the words couldn't be molded into a full sentence and died immediately. Her sister chuckled, slightly opening her package of lunch and handing something wrapped to the younger one. "Here, eat. The sub's pretty long, so you can have the other piece." Her sister gratefully accepted and ate it without question. Whatever her elder sister usually eats ends up being her favorite as well, oddly. They walked to a small patch of evergreen grass by the school building that was near the parking garage. A park area, many supposed. They sat on the naked patch and ate heartily.

"What dance is she doing, anyway?" the elder sister asked despite the amount of food filling her cheeks.

Tsipporah waited to gulp and replied. "The _Rabbit Dance_ I think it's called. The Mohawks did it as it is their tradition. Did you know that 'Mohawk' means 'man-eater'?"

"They sound scarier than the Mayans…"

"Well… to me they sound like they're the Spartans of natives. Makes me wonder what the kids and women do on a daily basis." Her elder sister choked on laughter, then her food, but gulped it down in time.

"No way… kids are—"

"—tiny little Hitlers," Tsipporah finished.

Her sister laughed harder. "And how do you know that? Have you met a native kid?"

"No, but I would sure love a fantastical adventure or meet someone tribal. That would be some—_no_! Go back in time! That would be some cool shit!" she bounced in her seat.

"Don't start. You know going back in time means going back into slavery days. No one wants that…"

"Yeah, that would be bad, but—"

"_No_."

"Ok…"

_"Tsipporah… heed my voice"_

Her dark eyes darted in every direction to find the voice and her elder sister eyed her like she was watching a madman. "What's wrong?" she managed. Tsipporah looked back at her sister after her slight craze; biting her lip in confusion.

"I thought I heard someone calling me."

"Yeah, I know that awkward moment—"

"No," she corrected, "I seriously heard someone call my name…"

"I think you've been sniffing too much turpentine in the art studio."

"I hope that's just the case, girl, because I am not putting up with voices in my head." She stood from the patch of grass and crumpled her now empty lunch wrapping, shooting it into the nearby trash.

"Just one more class—arts!" she cheered as she left her sister at a short distance. "We're going to the museum two blocks from here! They have an exhibit on art from the American Revolution!"

"And what do you know 'bout the Revolution?"

"Liberty Kids prepared me for this moment. Don't underestimate me!" she laughed and retreated to class with her things.

* * *

Once she got inside she went up the stairs to retrieve her belongings from the art studio she had left them in. She saw that her class was already gathered for attendance and sat down in a chair by the door. The instructor explained the usual for walking field-trips: no wandering into the streets, no pushing or rough-housing, no talking loudly, etc. Once they had their things gathered in the storage closet, they were off. They bustled through the streets and kept together as the teacher asked until they came to the museum. It was then that they were allowed to wander, but knew that this would end up as a homework assignment… Tsipporah didn't mind, though.

She loved craftsmanship and research; the work itself tells a story of its time and intently took in every detail of it. There was one wall space with native works; _Beautiful_. The quill-work of the baskets, the beading of the scarves and blankets, and the weaponry were breath-taking. There was one item she found standing alone in one open room. A tomahawk of all things, but this _tomahawk_ was different. This particular weapon had a rare tear-drop shape, but an eagle feather hanging from the handle as one would expect of a native weapon. Even the label was explained how rare this piece of work was. The handiwork is clear that it made by Mohawk hands, but… it was unique shape. Tsipporah thought it curious and wanted to go to ask about this specimen—

_"Tsipporah, you must listen…There is something you must do before it is too late."_

A flash of images came to her head at that instant. The young girl was sure that her head would burst open at the shock and fell to her knees, clutching her splitting skull. Was she dying? Was she dreaming? She gasped as the massive collection of images stopped flashing in her mind and looked up slowly._ No…_ She noticed the ground had changed below her. There was grass and dirt; no marble floors? Had she wondered outside in her supposed madness? Was voudou being worked on her and she got spirited away? No, that can't be. She stood slowly, taking in her surroundings, but took note that she was surrounded by tall trees and a cliffside off in the distance. Yep, this was definitely not Florida anymore. As a crazed fantasy enthusiast, she thought up her survival rules as she did with serious scavenger hunts. She had to see where she was and looking for water sources or looking from high places would help mapping out. It was a shame that she was a poor climber because of her ankle… Searching for a water source should suffice, then. She sniffed out and looked carefully and soon heard movement. Just ten feet in front of her was rustling bushes. She backed behind a tree and peeked until the creature made itself known.

A deer had appeared and walked along timidly, biting at leaves. Tsipporah breathed in relief, which caught the animal's attention. It slowly approached, but recoiled as the girl came out from behind the tree. She reached her hand to reassure the gentle creature and it did. It slowly came to her hand, sniffed, and allowed her to pet it. Of course she had pressing matters, like how to get back or if that's even possible, but this was a rare experience. She giggled at the touch and wished she had her camera, but that would be ill-advised.

_"Tsipporah, you must find me. Seek me out. Play your role…"_

No pictures or abrupt flashes came to mind, but the jolting and kicking of the deer was. Tsipporah stumbled back, taken aback completely by this action and soon understood. Once the deer had gotten a good distance run, she noticed the arrow in its side. The poor thing whined and slowed down in pain. Instinctively, she came running to the wounded creature to take out the arrow and treat it, as it was in her knowledge, but another rustling of the bushes came about to her ears.

"An arrow," she said to herself. Obviously this was someone's hunting grounds. _Someone's_… There could be a town nearby or something, but who hunts with arrows nowadays? There was whisper of voices closing in now. Was she just hearing things again? She held the deer close to her and looked about, swearing that she saw movement in the low shrubs. "Who's there?" she said with power. Her ankle could obviously lose in a fight, but she didn't take two years of martial arts for nothing! She took a moment to look back at the unfortunate creature. Its eyes were fluttering wearily, dying. "Oh no…" she breathed sharply, but sharpened up when a shadow fell over her.

"I'll put him out of his misery. I was hunting, anyway."

Tsipporah gasped and looked up, still clutching the deer defensively. It was a boy around her age, she guessed, maybe older. His clothes on the other hand were completely… native. Animal skins covered him along with crafty beadworks and arrows in a quiver. He pointed at the girl with his bow in annoyance.

"Move away, girl. You almost scared the deer away. Right now I need its hide." It would have been ill-advised to pick a fight in a strange forest with a stranger, but… Tsipporah released the deer from her hold and stood to back away from it. She watched the boy as he gave a small prayer and took a knife to cut the deer's innards. The gushing noises it made as the knife cut through was cringing. The tanned-skin boy noticed the girl was still there and furrowed his brows.

"Who are you and what business do you have here?" he gripped the bloodied knife in his hand. Tsipporah tried not to look scared or turn her back, but his brown eyes bore into hers in a threatening fashion.

"I-I'm lost… m-m-my name—"another tribal boy around her age came to the stranger's side. He dressed similarly, but was more on the chubby side. Tsipporah would giggle if a knife wasn't pointed in her direction.

"I ask again, stranger. Who are you and what business—"

"My name is Tsipporah! I'm lost! I don't know where I am, okay! I was just with my friends, then I heard voices, I saw weird images, and now I'm here!" she shrieked out and went into a fetal position.

The boy kept his stance, but his guard was dropped a bit at her actions. She genuinely seemed confused as to where she was. She also protected the deer with unwavering determination, so she couldn't be one of _them_. He looked at his companion and came down to the curled up, weeping adolescent. Placing a hand on her head he tried to coax her into calmness.

"If your words are true, then I trust that you are not with the men who wear red."

"Men in red?" the girl looked up with tear-struck eyes. Did she fall into a rabbit hole or is she going to see fairies and Peter Pan next? His companion spoke in a language she did not comprehend, but sound quite Native American. The boy replied back and turned his attention to Tsipporah again.

"We are almost done for the day and I am to gather eagle feathers…" he then turned back to his friend in their language, gesturing to the stupefied teen. He must have asked to watch her and then dashed off to the cliffs to find an eagle's nest or something. Indeed the teen was stupefied. Where was she and where have all the children gone? The chubby native boy tugged her hand to follow him to where the other ran off. She reluctantly followed out of little choices and rolled her eyes. There was just silence save for the two walking through ankle-leveled shrubbery, then the native pulled her back to stop.

She looked around, confused as ever, but rather the strange company than no company at all. Especially since one of them spoke English, Thank God. The sudden rush of downward wind caught her off guard and caused her to stumble. When she looked up, the native boy was in a pile of leaves, branches, and forest debris. He shook the greens from his short, silky hair and looked to the two attendants. He spoke his language to his friend passively as if he meant to fall out, but Tsipporah burst out in laughter at this scene. It was like a youtube viral video waiting to happen, but she had no camera. Shame.

"What are you laughing at?" he glared at her.

"You!" she pointed and laughs. She was sure he was okay and without injury, so she took the moment to laugh at it all. It was the only thing that managed to shake off the building anxiety. The boy quickly stood up and came to her within two feet and Tsipporah stifled her laughter, calming down.

"Be glad I will not take your actions to heart. I will ask the clan mother to house you and then be on your way."

"There's a problem, though. I don't know how I'm gonna get back." The girl bit her lip in mild frustration. The boys sighed.

"We will see what will be done with you… Tsipporah." The girl's name was strange on his tongue and thus wondered what it meant. It sounds exotic… perhaps she was of another tribe. No, that couldn't be. Her skin was too dark for that boys conversed a bit before nodding the girl to follow them, but the chubby one went off in another direction. Tsipporah suspected him to be continuing his part of the hunt, so her eyes followed until she bumped into a hard back.

"Keep silent and do not interfere." The boy hissed, evidently annoyed. She gave a puzzled look and read his movements. He was _still_ hunting.

"Once I get this hare, we will leave to the village." Village…? She would await further observation of this place to at least know where she is… or when. She shook her head at the thought. Should the date be of concern? Ripped from her thoughts, she heard hollering from behind her. The other native boy ran and swore incoherently. Shame that the hilarity of it was short lived when they heard roaring closing in. Trees were bashed to the side, to the forward, and out the black creature emerged having been disturbed. _The bear stood in its feral glory, raising its four inch claws to the stunned teens…_

* * *

**I should have posted a note in the very beginning when I wrote this, but this is my very first fanfiction story. Be gentle with me-Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2: Destiny

Tsipporah made an effort to not stumble in shock and tried to move her feet to no avail, but the native boy brought her back to earth by the pull of her hand. "What are standing around for? Run!" "You don't have to tell me twice!" she snapped as he dragged her into a dash. Problem was that she had no idea where she was headed, so all her trust was in this stranger. They heard heavy mashing of crumpled leaves followed by gruff panting behind them and only quickened their pace. The young girl was losing her mind as pure adrenaline channeled through her body with vengeance. Even as they tripped over some roots, their speed remained constant.

When it seemed like an entire hour passed, a wall of thick patches of lumber appeared in sight and the two ran in the area. "Wait!" the native stopped, but Tsipporah skidded, face planted into the dirt. Once the boy had caught his breath, it was his turn to laugh at the sight. The young girl raised her head, aggravated, and soon scrambled to her feet. What if the bear had caught up? The boy brought her to her feet and heard branches moving behind her. _Oh no…_

The chubby native boy surface from the forest and the two spoke again, glad that they were both unhurt. "Oh, he's alright—" Tsipporah smiled that he was unharmed, but then frowned when they gestured about her falling like a newborn giraffe. "Alright, we lost the bear! And now my face is covered in some animal's shit, so how about we get in the village…" she paused, "We are at the 'village', right?" The boys nodded.

"I will get you cleaned up before I show you to the clan mother, but then again… that's the women's job."

"What are you chauvinist?" she scoffed as they entered in.

"It is how our tribe works. I am also carrying our food; I am not going to clean you and present dinner. I am not your mother."

"Go to hell."

"You first."

"Yo' mama."

The chubby native broke up the argument before it could escalate. Why does his long-time companion, best hunter in the whole village, have bad luck with people outside of the tribe? As they all walked through they received curious stares from the people. Tsipporah figured she would look out of sorts there—she was wearing all black after all with skulls on her t-shirt and fitted jeans on her voluptuous thighs. The women giggled, even as they passed through them, they reached to touch the girls hair and were amazed by its texture. _Figures._

Suppose this was one of those hidden villages like the ones she would find eventually in an RPG. Native Americans back then did have a knack for curiosity. This reminded her of a trip to Denmark and a town was surprised to see black people…

The native boy took her arm suddenly and spoke to a small group of women. They stared between the boy and Tsipporah's dirt-smeared face, sniggering in their tongue. Rolling his eyes the women gestured to him and made kissing faces. She had no idea what they were talking about, but the boy did not look happy at all. "These women will clean you up. Once they are done, they will take you to the clan mother. I will have to translate, obviously, so be quick; I must eat soon." "Aw, poor baby…" Tsipporah mocked and cooed. He left with a scoff to one of the longhouses. The size and length of them did not surprise her much; she has read so much about them…

Wait… She blinked once, then twice. The _Iroquois_ built longhouses… oh, no. The native women gathered around to a ceramic jug of water and some cloth, taking dirt and waste off the girl's face. They took the chance to feel the teen's soft hair. Tsipporah decided not to wear gel today, so it was au naturale today. Thank goodness she wasn't in the hostile territory of the Iroquois, which lead her to wonder which tribe she's in right now. That question was quickly answered when she saw some men walk in firmly with… Mohawks and wolf-tail hair…

"Oh sweet baby Jesus, I'm in the Sparta of the Iroquois…" she whined, but then with her mouth open some dirt fell in and she spat it out quickly. The women laughed all too amused by the strange girl's behavior and the cleaning was nearly done. One of the women came in front of Tsipporah, gesturing in hopes of communication. The teen took notice and watched. "…my name? Tsipporah." The native girl smiled brightly and brought her hands to herself.

"…Kateri. Ka… teri."

"Kateri." She said in understanding. The girl then pointed behind Tsipporah and spoke again. "Kanen'tó:kon," she waved, "Ratonhnhaké:ton." Then it was just more words that went from one ear and through the other to the boys behind her. "So…" she stood, "Your name is… pfft, can I just call you Ray and Ken?" Ratonhnhaké:ton narrowed his eyes, not finding any humor in the nicknaming. "See now, Kate? He hates me. What did I ever do to you that were so terrible, huh?" "Clan mother wants to see you, _now_." Tsipporah scratched her nape in uncertainty.

"I thought the girls were—"

"It's urgent, she says." The girl shrugged her shoulders and waved back at her newfound circle of friends.

"Can I ask you something, Ratonhnhaké:ton?" the name came off her tongue like it was a song. He didn't look to her, but only answered with a small huff. "This is the Mohawk tribe, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Alright… so it's safe to say that if the 'clan mother' lets me stay, I won't be axed in the back, right?" Her last question was never answered so she was left in suspense; _terrible suspense_. They entered a longhouse, but the boy called Kanen'tó:kon did not follow any further. If anything, Tsipporah prayed she wouldn't be axed in the back in the end. If so, let a 'Pocahontas' throw himself/herself in to save her…

The interior was dim, but there was a bonfire lighting the room with an elderly woman near it, holding a long, decorated staff. She lifted her head as the two adolescents came her way. When Tsipporah stepped back in anxiety, Ratonhnhaké:ton pulled her further until they were directly in front of the clan mother. She greeted the native boy and turned to the strange girl in black. The elder spoke and the boy translated.

"The clan mother wishes to know who you are."

"The grim reaper… I'm kidding. Tsipporah Martel. I am _completely_ lost. I h-have absolutely no idea how I ended up in the Mohawk area." He translated in tribe's language and the old woman nodded, replying. "You are permitted to stay…" the boy looked as if he caught the stomach virus as these words passed his lips, "but you must follow our tribe's customs, for I believe the spirits have brought you here."

"Spirits? What spirits?" Tsipporah picked dirt from her nails and bit the urge to peel them. "Guiding spirits," Ratonhnhaké:ton himself answered. It was as if a light bulb went off in her head. Is that who have calling her this whole time? She's been summoned and spirited away, she just knew it. The clan mother turned to the boy and he responded with curious expression, looking to the girl once more. She continued; the young man deciphered, but the girl had to intervene.

"I thought I was hallucinating or something… So someone was calling me, but then when I heard the voice again, everything stirred and I came here—

_"All will be answered soon…"_

"I'm going to lose my mind before the day is over," she concluded, deadpanned. The clan mother waved her hand. "She will explain everything later. Now we must prepare for the night." She said something again, but Ratonhnhaké:ton bit his tongue back for he could not argue with the clan mother for something so trivial. "She requests that I keep an eye on you until we meet here again at sunset." "I guess there's no refusing this, huh, tree-hugger?" Tsipporah joked. She was never one to take insults too far, but such a nickname was given to her vegan and environmentalist friends back home; they saw no offense in it. Apparently this boy did because he crossed his arms in defiance. _What_ crawled up his butt and died?

The clan mother gestured them to leave at their leisure, which took no time at all. Once outside, the teen clad in black stopped in demand of answers. She was in an alien territory… sort of. "Hey… So what do you like to do?" "We are not friends, girl. Anyone—any _outsider_ should not be welcome here," he hissed, but softened after a flashback, "yet you wept and defended a wounded deer…" "I'm not much for animal violence. Don't get me wrong, I eat meat like a damn puma, but I am _not_ killing animals… with my bare hands." Her last few words were under her breathe, quiet.

He narrowed his eyes again, only now they were softer; not that they were any more succumbing. He even proceeded to scan his eyes up and down her bodice. "Does everyone from your tribe dress like you?" he nodded to her black skull shirt, black fur cuffed hoodie, black jeans, and skull ballet flats. She chuckled and played with her wolf-tail styled hair. "Oh yeah… wolf tails are for boys, huh? Yeah, I guess, some. Whatever floats their boat, I guess." "Hmph. Clan mother says you need to follow our customs. Your attire is included." "No…" she whined, "I love my ever-black world. If you make me wear pink, I will roundhouse you to next year!"

"I would like to see you try," he joked, "and what you wear will be up to clan mother or the other girls, not me. Try not to trip into feces again."

"You better watch yo' back, douche-bag. Be lucky that I actually am grateful for this so I won't kick your ass—"

The spirited Kateri jumped onto her back, knocking the wind out the Goth. She was surprised, but her new friend was very light—probably about 130 lbs. It soon went into a fit of giggles. Ratonhnhaké:ton shook his head incredulously. How and why is this complete stranger staying here? Why did the clan mother allow it? He spoke to the native girl and walked off, but not without giving Tsipporah a hard, steeled look before leaving.

"Forget it, Kateri, he _hates_ me. Pfft." She was dragged aside to a longhouse and there was an outfit that awaited her. Oh God… The teen wasn't furious—no, the exact opposite—she was excited to try these clothes even if they still had that dead animal smell, but the designs were beautiful and flawless. It contained gorgeous reds and blues painted on the quills, and the beadwork was _too_ good. She wouldn't mind wearing this at all. Nodding in gratitude, she looked to where her friend was and coughed.

"Are you… going to watch me change?" she blinked. Kateri looked about with her light brown eyes before she answered. "Well, I was told to help you change." "Ah…" was all she could manage and continued to strip down indifferently. "So you and Ratonhnhaké:ton get along, yes?" "No!" she exclaimed, but muffled by her taking off her shirt.

Her new friend only laughed. "Do not fear, I think he has taken a liking into you."

"What makes you say that?" she was legitimately curious, wanting to talk anyway.

"He speaks to you and brought you here. He _never_ speaks to outsiders."

"Really, now? I can see that, but why _me_?"

"I do not know, but his friend said you wept and defended a dying deer."

"Yes, I did," she admitted, "took me a minute to realize they were hunting in the name of mother nature."

"Do not be troubled of Ratonhnhaké:ton. He did not have the best encounters with outsiders."

"Oh… okay, I'll give him that, but that's no reason to be so damn_ rude_."

"That is true, but he is good at heart and cares for his people. Standing still is not much for him; not enough, really." Tsipporah sighed and had her new companion aid her in this outfit, which was a bit looser and freer. The foot wear was even softer. "I will do your hair." "That will take_ forever_." "Yes, your hair is soft and light—different from mine. I love it." Kateri couldn't help but run her hand through the unruly texture, and then focused on her main task.

"Girl, what do you know about doing a black-girl's hair?"

"I shall try my best with what I learned from Aunt Ziio," she said heartily.

"I can feel the hope in your fingers," Tsipporah murmured with a broad smile at her friend's level of confidence. As Kateri was nearly done, the native boy returned to them as well as his chubby friend. Upon seeing them, Kateri grinned at the chubby one, surprising him with a jump-hug. Tsipporah laughed wryly at the sight as Kateri even pecked his lips.

"Oh… I get it. He's your…" Tsipporah trailed off with a Chesire grin ever-growing. "Yes, he is," Kateri was practically fangirling and released her gripping embrace. Ratonhnhaké:ton rolled his eyes. "You are done?" "Yessir." She tipped an imaginary hat. "Then hurry up. Sorry Kateri, she is stuck with me—clan mother had ordered it." Kateri grew crestfallen at the words as if a bouquet of flowers were knocked from her hands. The teen clad in black gave a small nudge to the saddened girl to reassure her.

"Don't worry, Kate, you have your boyfriend to keep you company!"

"Enough of this," Ratonhnhaké:ton pulled her away from his friends.

"Aw, man! You suck… so bad. Y'know that?"

"And you are most unwelcome. You know that? You are not red, but the black is no more tolerable."

"Geez, didn't your parents ever teach you manners, tree-hugger?"

It was like a fuse went off or something. The hand that held hers suddenly became aflame and trembling, but he tried to contain himself from combusting. "Once you leave, will I be at peace again." "I'm confused… did something happen?" aggravating this far wasn't her intention. Sure, she loved her own sarcasm, but now she was sure she may have hit below the belt, unknowingly. "Wait, I am _so_ sorry—whatever I said to offend you."

She couldn't tell if he forgave her or not; his back was facing her. His skin didn't feel as hostile as before, though. "Wanna go play lacrosse to calm your nerves?" she proposed. The boy looked back with widened eyes as if he heard her propose that they should go bear-hunting. Tsipporah was taken aback by his facial expression and laughed aloud.

"What?"

"You play… _tewaarathon_ where you live?"

"Is that what your tribe call 'lacrosse'? Yeah, _anyone_ can play it, why?"

"…"

She then recalled that native girls only sew, make pottery, cook, and clean… Lacrosse was a violent sport, but women play it, too, but a much more G-rated version. Shaking her head, she put her hands on her hips. "You got any extra crosse I can use?" Before she knew it he handed her a short one and she chucked it aside. "_Bigger_." She demanded, "I don't do short-sticks, man." The boy was a bit happy about this, but would never admit it—promising to himself that he wouldn't get rough with her in this game. What a mistake that was…

Despite playing this as one-on-one, the girl acted as an entire 10-man team, and Ratonhnhaké:ton quickly gave up on his promise to not rough house. The Goth was pleased by his break in gentleness because the game was starting to get boring the first fifteen minutes.

"Ha!" she exclaimed, getting pushed forcefully, "Good! I thought I was going against a girl!"

_"So did I…"_ Ratonhnhaké:ton thought weakly as he finally got the ball from her.

They soon gained a small crowd with the given genders cheering for either side. The game was short-lived, though, for they both were out of breath, but were happily tied in score. Kateri and Kanen'tó:kon came to them, lifting the two to their feet. The exhausted teens looked at each other and exchanged weak smiles before walking off. They were rewarded with cheering and applauses from the crowds before them, too, dispersed.

"That was a good game, Ratonhnhaké:ton," Kateri congratulated.

"I almost lost to a _girl_…" he huffed as if he saw the Easter Bunny and didn't want to believe that either.

"Oh, is that why you were going soft on me the first round? Didn't think I know a rough sport when I play one?" Tsipporah burst into a fit of gasping giggles.

Kanen'tó:kon patted his friend's back, trying to coax him to brush off the strange girl's non-feminine behavior to no avail. Kateri could beg to differ. "She is still a girl, Ratonhnhaké:ton! Surely she is gentle, maternal, and nurturing.""But I still kicked his ass in a man sport; my dick's bigger than his." Yep. That one definitely hit below the belt and the native boy was instantly thrown back to hate and dismay. Well, so much for playing to calm his nerves. His _supposed_ friends did not make it any better for they were still choking on laughter from Tsipporah's last rejoinder.

Before realizing it, the sun had begun to set, draining the sky of azure. If anything, Tsipporah saw some torches of fire outside. Good. She could not deal with the darkness. Her primal fear couldn't be waved out at all and because if it, she held Kateri's hand tightly as they walked out. Still, it was nice to see the entire galaxy and stars in all its glory. She lived deep in the city, so many of the stars were often blotting out.

Once reaching the longhouse of the clan mother, her friend patted her shoulder and lightly pushed the Goth inside. It was darker than before save for the patch of fire at the center and went to it. Pacing closer, she saw the elder woman and her supposed 'tree-hugging' friend and sat when the warmth of the flames set in. As expected, the boy was not happy to see her. His dirty looks could smear her face again, she swore, but she sat Indian style leaned forward. "So why exactly am I here, according to clan mother—"Ratonhnhaké:ton ignored her question and spoke in their tongue, concerned about something serious.

Tsipporah could take no more of that. She just exhaled silently and took some Hershey's bar she's been saving since lunch, but she was ignored. After a while, the girl's eyes flutter, but was shaken out of the spell. Her eyes lifted again to see the clan mother picking a peculiar looking sphere, clean and clear, and handing it to Ratonhnhaké:ton. The young teen was fully awake for the noise, the voice, and the images that shot through her head as she saw the mysterious sphere. She chose to resist clutching her head, but the boy wondered what the object was. All she heard left was the words of the elder woman and the room enveloped with light…

The next thing the two knew was the ever-changing background and wondered if they were still in the longhouse. Ratonhnhaké:ton called out to the clan mother to no avail and Tsipporah's headache finally stopped since she's gotten inside. "Where are we?" she rubbed the bridge of her nose. The native still sat in place, but both heard a voice speak—one that was all too familiar to the young girl.

"Greetings guardian." A tall white figure stood before Ratonhnhaké:ton and Tsipporah gasped, uncrossing her legs and standing. "Are you… a spirit?" he asked. "You may think of me as such," she countered. "Yeah… so I take it that _you_ brought me here?" The figure nodded. "Hah… I see. _So I was summoned…_" she concluded; brought about to 'wonderland', or so to speak.

"Where are we?" they boy continued. "You are where you were before. If you mean to ask what it is you now see—it is known as the Nexus. From here probabilities are calculated so that the proper path may be chosen." "You mean like an alternate dimensional plane where spirits like angels and demons watch from? Cool beans." The 'spirit' continued. "Wait… What path?" he asked, nailed to the spot. "Yours," was all she ended with. Tsipporah had questions of her own, but the light blinded her yet again.

When things cleared, she felt lighter in the wings, much lighter. She blinked and realized that she could see far. What…? She looked to the side and saw an eagle fly beside her and clouds whipping past her and her talons hang under her. Talons? "Ah! What the hell is happening?!" she flapped frantically before allowing herself to calm. She had been turned into a bird; an eagle no less. Being acrophobic didn't help much at all. She hoped they weren't in the sky.

"Follow me," a serene voice called. "What have you done to me?" Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't seem at all startled by the change of face, but it seems to Tsipporah that people being turned into animals was no folklore or fiction for scare. "I have selected a form familiar to your culture. It is designed to ease navigation." "Yeah, well, I guess you didn't catch that I am not Native American like him and _super acrophobic_!" the girl exclaimed, but much lass alarmed now that a beautiful scene of the sky painted the nexus.

"What about summoning me to the Mohawks? You have been calling me all afternoon. What do you want?" Tsipporah called to the dulcet voice. "You have been summoned through a worm-hole created in the nexus of your current time frame so that you may aid this one on his correct path. Your services are essential." She cocked her head at her answer. Simply put, she has been summoned to a world-winding adventure.

"What of me?" Ratonhnhaké:ton came in out of silence. "We have waited a millennia for your arrival. You—who will bring him the last piece. That he may open the door. "I do not understand…" _"Neither do I, tree-hugger, but I just wing it…"_ the Goth thought to herself, but even the nexus couldn't keep her mind silent. "Nor need you. I sense my words cause pain… But such was not my intention. You are important, child. In more ways than you will ever know. As we speak, forces gather in secret, preparing to seize control of the land. If they succeed, the sanctuary will be breached."

As they flew, images of men flashed before them. They were recognizable because these images flashed through her mind all through the afternoon. Men gathered to seize the land and on the land laid a sacred place. It was clear what had to be done. It was clear these men were villains—here to disturb the peace of the Mohawks. Not only were they were here to take and pillage, but they were… British? Somehow Tsipporah realized where and _when_ she was. These uniforms haven't been seen or used since the American Revolution. _Oh God, why…?_

"Yours is a special lineage," the serene voice persisted,"Past, present, and future. Many are connected to you. Many who have changed the world… Who will change the world… So, too, shall you. I have called you here that you might know your duty. You must protect the sanctuary from those who would undo our work." She was speaking to the boy again, but he was confused about the whole thing. "What sanctuary? What work?" "I think she means you're the chosen one, tree-hugger." The girl sassed.

"Maintaining your current course will result in a negative outcome. Premature access will destabilize the region. Your village and it people will be destroyed." "So simply put… everyone, not just the Mohawk people will die…?" the teen choked hearing the cries from the nexus and flames in the images. "What am I to do?" the boy asked with determination. "You will learn of a man who will provide additional training. Seek this symbol." _The symbol…_

It all made sense now. Of course, everything sounded familiar—_Assassin's Creed_. A secret society that has been forever hiding in the shadows in and from every nation; every conflict a nation or country had somehow had the assassins' brotherhood and the templars involved. The _templars_… they are shrouded in mystery, but one thing is certain: _they aim to eliminate free will_.


	3. Chapter 3: Massacre

Everything went black afterwards. The woodland scent filled the air and soft grass felt underneath. Beams of light forced the teen's eyes to open and wipe them out of tiredness. She bats her eyes to take the scenery and sat up, finding herself on the ground again—in her 'normal' (her black attire from before) clothes, too. Hm…

In front of her was the native, Ratonhnhaké:ton. He was still unconscious, but it gave Tsipporah time to truly take in his features without the whole sassing and dirty looks. His skin was mocha, but lighter than hers. He could pass as a Spaniard or Italian if he chose to. She felt at his hair—silky and smooth, but somehow her hand wandered to his cheek. His skin… was perfect, soft, and flawless. There were no blemishes, no discoloration save for the few scratches from their lacrosse match. His face was also a bit plump… Maybe a few more years and he'll lose the baby fat from his face. The features of this boy were astonishing so, that she had almost forgotten how sour his attitude was.

"Beautiful…"she sighed almost dreamily. "What are you doing?" a male voice demanded, cutting through her thoughts. Tsipporah then realized that he was now fully awake and not in the most friendly way possible. He scrunched up his face at the girl's touch and got up. Tsipporah's expression was priceless. How long was he awake, exactly? She had almost felt at his lips. Oh God! _"What is wrong with me? Touching a boy in his sleep…"_

Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't bother with her intentions. Not now that he has a purpose to fulfill—a role he must play—and Tsipporah, too, according to the spirit. He saw the creek and instinctively came to kneel down by the rocks. He began to draw with a stick he found and the girl came to see as well as the clan mother. The symbol that 'spirit' showed him. The elder woman sat to speak with him and soon gave him a wrapped packing and the girl her tribal clothes. As it seems, the woman allowed him to go out from the village into the world and the teen chest somehow collected too much air.

"The clan mother has released me from the village," Ratonhnhaké:ton said as the elder walked away. Tsipporah wasn't sure how to answer, pursing her lips and staring blankly at her change of clothes in her hands. She didn't even… she wasn't even given the chance to say goodbye to her new friends. Will she see them again? This day was moving too fast, for one. One day she was home, going to school, went to art class, and then back in time the next. She had the whole planned, too. Once she had returned home, she would do her new project, visit her father, write stories with her brother, and practice vocals with her sister… She then started to wonder when she'll get home, exactly.

"I guess we're going on an adventure together for a while, eh tree-hugger?" she said with a weak smile.

"I am not ecstatic about this either, but I am to search for the man who will help me. If I do not—"

"Your village will burn and the rest of your people with it, I know. Listen… Ratonhnhaké:ton…" she was happy that had his name registered, "Let's just get this show on the road." The Goth turned on her heel and cocked her head forward for him to lead the way. That supposed spirit chose him to change the world, so she guessed she was a party member along for the ride. Although, her role may have been so serious that she had to be pulled from her own time plane.

The boy grew some rare fortitude in his eyes and looked to the cliffs. He inhaled softly and went forward with the girl following. Before they knew it, they were climbing. One of them weren't happy about it, but didn't complain; only if it was clear when she was getting back, though. Maybe she'll go back once she helps him save his home, but how long would that take, really? Weeks? Months? Years…?

Her mind wandered and her feet slipped, nearly falling from fifty feet, but was caught by her hips.

"You should tread softly on the cliff sides. Perhaps you won't fall and die, then."

"Shut up! I have perfect coordination."

"Yes. Like a newborn deer."

"Don't fuck with me; we're supposed to save the world here."

Ratonhnhaké:ton stopped.

"What? Did you think your village would be the _only_ one to suffer? You need to think logically about your enemy, man. If they want _your_ land, then they sure as hell would take the _whole_ world, too."

The boy smirked as they slid down the cliff. He figured this was why the girl was pulled from her time. Vulgar tongue and zero femininity, yes, but she is different somehow. Perhaps she won't be much of a nuisance as he thought. In fact, she was the only girl/outsider he knew so far to defend injured animals or respect their customs as such. She even treated them as equals… in her strange way, but when she realized she had been scrapping at healing scars, she apologized sincerely. He guessed she still had some morals retained despite everything. Somehow Ratonhnhaké:ton began to wonder if what Kateri said was true: that her hair was soft as the fur of the hare and had the voice of the forest spirits. Even now, he adores the way she looked in the Mohawk attire…

Ratonhnhaké:ton was torn from his musings at the roaring and hissing of a mountain lion—and Tsipporah's sudden outburst.

"UGH! I don't even have a weapon! No fair! Ray-Ray, he go'n kill me!"

"Quiet! I'll get him." He jumped to the mountain lion to challenge it, commanding Tsipporah to stay where she was. _As if_ she was planning to move. The urge to peek in fortified when she felt a bit of blood drip onto her cheek. She glanced up and saw that the mountain lion had clawed at the 'tree-hugger's' neck. She swore to herself and deemed herself to aid him. Her ankle was in no condition for offence, but what choice did she have? He couldn't die; not now… or so she thought.

The roaring and struggle died down and there waited young Ratonhnhaké:ton at the top of the cliff with his hand extended. She gladly took his forearm, allowing him to pull her up. She was surprised at how easily he did it, too. How much she weighed… like 170 lbs? "That was some impressive shit you took down, boy. I am chicken-headed when it comes to being face to face with wild animals…"

"You lack proper weapons to defend yourself. You can fight with your hands, yes?"

"I can fight… I just lack bravery. I fight on adrenaline battery, son. Like when my friends are in trouble—_deep_ trouble."

"One day, that strength will emerge and perhaps on that day you will save many lives." Tsipporah wasn't sure if he was being nice or… meh, never mind.

"Maybe we should stop before your neck gets infected." The least she could do was… Yeah, she had a bandage roll in her jacket pocket, but too bad she carried no disinfectant. "We'll have to wash it off; never mind." The boy brushed off at the gesture, anyway. It was nice, but felt that he had no need for it. He rarely got sick of or from anything—wasn't the first time he took a lashing from a beast in the wild.

The rest of the trip held climbing and falling from the cliffs. The Goth was eternally grateful feel the solid ground under her feet again, but was surprised that she didn't freak over the heights. Maybe it was because she was with _him_. And so they finally reached their destination or save for the argument the two middle-aged men had over what tribe Ratonhnhaké:ton hailed from, which held great hilarity and sport. They pressed on for the large house at the end and when they reached the patio, the native gave a few fair knocks. After a moment longer, a man of dark skin like Tsipporah opened the door abruptly.

"What?!" he spat, pestered.

"I was told you could train me," Ratonhnhaké:ton said timidly.

"Go away!" he shut the door firmly, almost stubbing the girl's foot.

"Oh, no he didn't…" the girl waved her finger. Ratonhnhaké:ton knocked the door again only to be told to leave again, but refused. Tsipporah sighed. This was not taking them anywhere so she walked off the patio with her jacket over her shoulder.

"Forget it, dude. He's not gonna let us in and it looks like it's going to rain bad tonight." She saw the stables as she leaned and so did he. It was the only option for shelter, anyway. The two youths parked there and sat down, pondering what they should do. Tsipporah took notice of the sleeping horses as she turned her head, but her eyes fell back on her native companion and remembered of his injury.

"I should probably check that neck wound now, huh? Come here."

"I'm fine—"

"I said come here, boy, I didn't ask if your ass was fine!" Her musings said otherwise. The boy is _fine_. He sat in frustration, his back facing her, as she checked his wound. Thankfully it wasn't as bad as she thought, but upon further inspection did she find some scars from another beast's claws; a bear claw-work, no less. She saw something else as she lifted some his shoulder-length hair from his nape and down the spine. _Burn scars_. They didn't seem like something accidental either. The spirit did say something that, on some level, upset him in some way. Had outsiders come to his village and burned it down before? No… she can't just assume… Once she cleaned the abrasion well, she took the largest band-aid for coverage.

"There. Boo-boo's better now, boo-boo."

"But we still can't get in," Ratonhnhaké:ton sighed.

Shame they couldn't, too. The girl smiled, though. Maybe they could try tomorrow. When Ratonhnhaké:ton rolled out his sleeping bag out, Tsipporah realized she had nothing to sleep on. She looked around for something soft to lie on, but the horses already shat on the 'perfect substitutes'. Stomping in aggravation, she sat on the floor and leaned against the wooden post. "Sleep here, with me. You will ruin your back if you sleep like that." The boy moved a little on his sleeping pack to make room and the girl's throat tightened.

"Thanks…" she lay down rather too close to him, she thought, but he didn't move away or gave a dirty look. She couldn't bring herself to face him and kept her head down, but when he said her name she looked up. His eyes were mesmerizing for a simple light-brown shade.

"I'm not even going to front; your eyes are _so_ handsome."

Ratonhnhaké:ton blushed at her remark, but tried to hide it by lowering his head. The girl laughed at his actions, but didn't take back her words. It was the truth. He took a deep breath and faced her again, looking atop her head and back into her eyes. Her eyes on the other hand… they were so close to black—brown, but really dark in shade. She put her arm back to reach her hair and undid her hair-tie, and then her unruly, wavy curls sprang up from her scalp. Ratonhnhaké:ton gaped at its liveliness.

"All of that… is your hair?"

"Yeah, I don't wear it tied down when I sleep. I get a headache in morning after, so—"

"So it is soft as Kateri said?"

"Kateri…" Tsipporah closed her eyes at her friend's expense. Of course she bragged about her hair, her skin… and her 'manliness' maybe.

"Can I touch it?"

"Touch what?" she snapped out of her thoughts of what she believed she heard an innuendo.

"Your hair," his hand was already hovering, as if he was going to do it without consent. The female youth only pursed her lips and nodded. He only wanted to see if what Kateri said was true. He only wanted to touch her hair. This wasn't so bad. Ratonhnhaké:ton was surprised at the consistency. The curls were locked in some places, but it was so new to feel. Everyone in his village had the same type of hair, but this…

Tsipporah tried with all her might not to get all excited. His fingers softly grazed her scalp and ran through her locks no matter how dense some of them were. She inhaled sharply when he reached a sensitive region above her nape and decided that maybe he's had enough of that feel, recoiling and pushing his hand away gently. Ratonhnhaké:ton was puzzled by this act, but then saw goose-bumps rising on her exposed arm. He chuckled at the sight, but didn't seem to realize that he had _aroused_ her. The Goth turned her glazed eyes down from him in hopes that her heart would stop fluttering. It did eventually.

"We should get some sleep, tree-hugger," she yawned.

"You believe I can save the world?"

The girl took off her jacket and covered him as the spray of rain poked at their faces a little. "With the right companions and friends, you can never go wrong… tree-hugger." She said affectionately and closed her eyes, and he, too, drifted into a world of dreams. Unfortunately, she woke up later that night, still finding herself in 'ancient times'. The Goth promptly sat up and rubbed her eyes. Looking down, she noticed the boy sleeping soundly… or so she thought. He started to roll and groan, spew incoherent words, and sweat formed on his skin.

"Oh no…" the teen wondered if he was getting sick or something, but on closer inspection, he was obviously having a nightmare. "Hey," she shook him; "wake up!" to no avail. He began to sob and clutch at his head violently, tossing and turning. Tsipporah braced herself and put her arms around him firmly, holding him in place.

"It's alright," she whispered, "I'm here, now. Your friend is here now."

His body relaxed, thankfully. She wasn't sure how she was going to hold down someone strong enough to kill a mountain lion, but he was still tense in a way. Maybe something of a dulcet sound can calm him?

_Be brave little one.  
Make a wish for each sad little tear.  
Hold your head up though no one is near  
Someone's waiting for you.  
Don't cry little one.  
There'll be a smile where a frown use to be.  
You'll be part of the love that you see.  
Someone's waiting for you.  
Always keep a little prayer in your pocket  
and you're sure to see the light.  
Soon there'll be joy and happiness  
and your little world will be bright  
Have faith little one  
'Til your hopes and your wishes come true.  
You must try to be brave little one.  
Someone's waiting to love you…_

The girl was not so sure how long she's sung a song like that. When she was a child, maybe? Perhaps around that time… When she looked down again, her native companion was sleeping soundly, totally composed, so she laid him down on the sleeping mat again. She took the sleeve of her jacket to wipe his face of dried tears and suddenly gained a broader curiosity of him. Suddenly all of his dirty looks before weren't so bothersome. Tsipporah inhaled and lay next to him once more, praying he doesn't thrash about in her sleep.

When Tsipporah woke again, her stomach was in bad shape—not to mention she had to use the bathroom. She had to eat something. There was so much excitement the last several hours that she had ignored her body's needs. She stood slowly and cracked her weary bones. After the stretch did she noticed the cooked meat on cloth. The smell was fresh, but saw that Ratonhnhaké:ton was gone. He probably went off to try the old man again. It wasn't going to be easy; he's an "OG". On the second piece of meat she was eating, a commotion ring from the mansion. When Tsipporah stepped out to focus her eyes, she saw her traveling companion on the mansion's balcony being given a Hannibal Lecture from the old man before he retreated to the mansion's interior.

She should feel bad, but it was sort of entertaining. However, this also meant that they were to stay in the stables a bit longer. Nevertheless, she walked out to find a bathing spot and somewhere to… pee like hell. Ratonhnhaké:ton returned crestfallen in a matter of minutes.

"Failed again, huh, hero?"

"I _will_ not be defeated so easily."

"Ok, man. I'm not against you… shit."

He was definitely disappointed and irritated more than anything. "Thank you for the breakfast, though." He nodded weakly to her appreciation and took a scrap of meat himself. "You're gonna have to do something impressive, though. You have to get his attention even when he just sits there."

"How?"

"You'll find a way, dude."

"Anyway, I gotta go take a bath. I smell like doo-doo." She passed her party member and realized that he had a rancid stench, too; no longer stinking of the woodland.

"Yeah, you bathe, too. Otherwise the old man will _never_ let you in."

"We have more important things to do than to bathe," he retorted.

"Pick your teeth and brush your tongue while you're at it," she ignored his reply, "your breath is kicking more than _you_ were last night."

He didn't really understand her last comment. All he could remember was darkness and a soft voice that cut through to the light, waking up early and refreshed to hunt for food. Narrowing his eyes, he guessed if _she_ was the one who quieted his dream last night. Ratonhnhaké:ton was cleaved from his musings by Tsipporah's tugging towards the river.

"You bathe and piss on that side; I'm behind the big patch of trees," she bent a branch back for better coverage. "And if you try to peep-tom on me, I'll cut off your prick before you even find out what it's for!" she could have sworn she heard women laughing in the distance, but went about her business to bathe as did he. Too bad she came around as early as she did once she was done. Finding Ratonhnhaké:ton topless, but shapely toned.

"You could not wait, could you?" he sneered.

"I wanted to check if you actually picked your teeth," she looked closely at his molars and saw them picked as much as they could. They were very white, indeed. He slapped her hand away, but didn't give her a dirty look this time. She nodded off, but then realized… she was still holding her pants.

"If you look down, I'm going to jail…"

"I won't," he turned to resist the urge.

"And the old man…" she swayed, "Make sure you continue to persist. He'll have to train you at some point…"

She wasn't even sure of her own words that moment, but they became clear later that night. The teen didn't realize how exhausted she was until she had slept from the afternoon until the late night. Thank goodness she did, too. Robbers had come and her friend was under attack. The thrashing and grunting was boisterous. Tsipporah tucked away with the dark shadows and watched for openings or room to lash out, but on a bad foot? No, it didn't even matter at that point. Her friend was outnumbered.

After hearing a blood-curling yelp from him, she lashed out of the stables, jump-kicking the closest target. The men were definitely bigger, but she didn't care. Soon, she was back to back with her native companion, sucker-punching and clubbing the trespassers down one by one.

The rest of it was a blur after a banshee scream and bashings. Before they knew it, the old man had appeared. The girl's eyes fluttered from the raindrops on lashes and saw Ratonhnhaké:ton bruised badly and was moving the fallen bodies of the robbers. Her words of concern were feeble and incoherent, but she heard his. _Get inside_, he said and he'll follow shortly. She unconsciously obeyed. Had she just gone homicidal? She hoped not.

The interior, as she predicted, was all in colonial style. The wall and floors were solid wood; alright, not _completely_ solid. The chair she sat in fell immediately like a house of cards. Wood pieces rolled away and the young teen was too languid to care about the furniture's condition. When the door opened, so did her eyes. Ratonhnhaké:ton had returned, but hilariously followed suit to have the wooden chair collapse under him. She wanted to laugh, but ended up coughing up blood instead and realized that her chest was bruised. After that fiasco, the old man explained everything. The training, brought them to the basement, showed the faces of the enemies, and that Ratonhnhaké:ton had to exterminate _all_ of them.

"I will have to kill them all… even my father." He said with conviction.

Tsipporah held her cheek, breathing carefully and hissing at the sinking pain. She saw the wall of the templars. Taking Ratonhnhaké:ton's word for it, she saw his father. He looked just like him. In fact, it explained why he didn't look very native… he was _half-British_? The pain did not seem much of a grating subject anymore.

"You're… half-British?" she managed, sucking her teeth. He nodded stiffly.

"My mother told me long ago. Who my father was… and why he had come to our village, but…" he choked.

"She's dead…?" her eyes widened. He gave a strong gaze that answered everything. Tsipporah lowered her hand from her face and felt guilt rising in her. Recalling a slang-related insult to his mother, she wanted to apologize, but the old man had cut in.

"You two get some rest. The training will start for you tomorrow, "he pointed at the 'tree-hugger'. Ratonhnhaké:ton put his hand against the girl's back and they both went up the stairs. Every creak had them on edge, since they were told that the house was falling apart. Fortunately, there were separate rooms across from each other.

"Well… g'night. At least we're not in the stables anymore, right?"

Ratonhnhaké:ton gave her a long stare as he stepped to his designated door, never taking his eyes off of her. The girl furrowed her brows and really wanted to break the silence… badly.

"I'll sleep off the pain. Heh, don't worry about it. I hope your cheek gets better. Night!" she opened and closed the bedroom door. 'God, that boy is _fine_,' she scrambled to the canopy bed and shut her eyes tightly to rest.

The next handful of days was training, training, and more training. When it came to learning about the arts, Tsipporah assisted—being an art nut and all. When it came to religion and other cultures she could speak all day, and when subjects of math rose, she fell asleep. At least the boy had trained hard enough to gain keen senses from the old man. The girl was visited more by the estranged 'spirit', saying that she must see to it the boy gets the robes. She was just there for observation, she guessed, but was never told when she would go home… yet.

"Okay, so you have a test Monday on Greek Mythology." The girl waltzed down the stairs in her tribal gown, lacking the dark eye shadow she had before, showing her face.

"How many questions is that?" Ratonhnhaké:ton waited at the bottom.

"Hm… 200. Fifty multiple, fifty fill in the blank, and 100 on naming the gods. Oh, and O.G.-Achilles wants you to give the striking posts 300 rounds, 60 laps around the mansion, and 100 push-ups—military count."

He wasn't too thrilled about that. Where does she find time to write up 200 questions anyway? The native boy shook his head and stepped outside, wanting to take the air in. All his growing and acts of random kindness has attracted some newcomers to settle on their land of Davenport, Homstead. Additional training had taken up most of the hunting time as well, so Tsipporah offered to fish and chase hare… much. At least her cooking skills made up for the lack of hunting sport.

Days past and they managed to bring supplies. The task in itself wasn't easy. It was a first for both the youths to go to Boston… in 1770. It was Disneyland for the both of them; a tainted, battered town to the old man, Achilles. Even better, they were going shopping! Achilles had changed Ratonhnhaké:ton's name, though. The girl had to admit that at this point, he needed an English name. "Connor" was perfect—convenient, actually. The two went off shopping. Up the lane, people complained the politics of the time: taxes, some shortages, keeping their houses… The shopping went _smoothly_ and Tsipporah gained a carry-on weapon, but the rest of the day didn't.

There was rioting… there were Loyalist soldiers barking orders and demanding the crowd to disperse. Oh no… _"Is this what I think it is…?"_ the history nut thought. Achilles pointed to a man in the distance and said trouble might follow. That man was 'Connor's' father—a templar. "I wanna go home, now," Tsipporah jittered in her stance, sensing an omen in all of this, but Achilles demanded that they look for the man's accomplice. _Great._ So now they had to track down the enemy? Even that didn't go so well. Once they caught the perpetrator in time, there was a backup plan they had, the fires were shot, and the Boston Massacre began. On the roof across from the one they stood on was a man with eyes as piercing as ice, skin almost white as the dying snow, and hair dark like a raven's.

"That's Charles Lee? One of the templars working with your father—"

"We must leave!" Connor hopped down the roof and the girl followed suit, seeing that Connor's father—Haytham Kenway, she heard—accused him of firing the first shot. So much for incognito… Now that she recalled, Tsipporah never admitted that she had a bad foot—reason for falling behind often. Death would be inevitable at this situation and there were more men chasing her than that one time in a public mosh-pit…

Lost in her thoughts, she tripped on the edge of a roof and fell into a random haystack. Connor followed, wanting to keep her in sight and hide himself. Once they heard nothing but silence, Connor leapt out. Unfortunately, there was a red-coat staring him in the face among others. Tsipporah was still in the stack and peeked out, seeing that Connor was surrounded. He handled himself well, but… men with rapiers and tall head-gear parried his clubbing blows. This was bad, but she herself couldn't hope to fight off—

The boy was struck down by the sword and tried to retrieve his weapon, but failed. He heard metal ringing and the British soldier hovering over him, sick with pride. "Proper you die here, half-breed," the red-coat spat at the boy's face, proceeding to kill him. The sword swung fiercely and blood was spilled. Connor had waited for his finish… but it never came. He opened his eyes and gasped, finding an injured party-member taking a fatal stab to the calve muscle. The blade was so done in finely, that the soldier chucked it out to retrieve it.

"AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaAAAAAAGHUHhh…!" Tsipporah bawled and Connor took the opportunity to wipe out the rest upon their distraction of the girl. Once all was cleared, Connor took the youth in his arms and headed down an alley.

"Tsipporah! Hang on!" the boy hoped weaved through the chaos.

"S…Stop yelling… you're blowing… your cover…" she started to get dizzy and vision blurring. Was she losing so much blood? Did she rupture a major artery, too?

"You are in no position to say such things!" she could have sworn he had tears in his eyes and wanted to call him girly names like 'Connie' or 'Cornelia' for crying for something 'trivial'. Before she knew it, her vision blacked out and she fell unconscious.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! 3 Also the given lyrics are from the song "Someone's Waiting For You"- from the movie _The Rescuers_.**

**watch?v=McWN59YwIn4**


	4. Chapter 4: Exodus

People died or were injured badly, and her friend was wanted—averted, though, thanks to some allies. Tsipporah sustained a serious calf injury by the hands of a sword and she wasn't too happy about the treatment. She was too weak to sew her own wound, not to mention… the gory sight of blood that night at the Homestead mansion.

She sat in room, frustrated, and Connor sounded a bit mad about the whole thing and fussed at his mentor. Lying on her stomach, Tsipporah had nothing else to do but either sleep, read, or despair… she guessed. The nearest thing to her was a bible on the vanity table near her canopy bed. She flipped open the pages wearily until she reached Exodus. _The Book of Moses_.

Her favorite story, it is— "Ah, fuck!" she bounced a little too hastily and her stitches down the depths of her leg bumped her nerves. There, promptly, was galloping up the stairs and it reached the girl's doors. She already figured who it was, though.

"Tsipporah!" young Connor huffed, covered in sweat, "what has happened? Did your wounds open—"

"I'm fine, Connor. I just jumped a little and I felt a jolt of pain, but I'm fine." Her words brought no comfort. He was still wracked with guilt that he had let this happen to her. He was destined to save his village… maybe the world, too, of the Templar control and failed to stop the Boston Massacre, and his friend could have lost her leg. She just smiled brightly—the best she could—and patted an open space on her left bedside, the boy obliged.

"You're reading the bible, right?"

"It's okay if you don't wanna hear a story or a verse. I know it's just for studies, anyway, but I'm not gonna be an ass about it; saying you should 'follow God or go to hell'." It was the truth. If he just wanted to read, so be it. She, unlike some of her neighbors at home, wouldn't smother other people with their supposed 'holiness'.

"I would like to hear one," he insisted. He was studying on different societies and cultures anyway. Tsipporah laid the book flat for them both to see the story and began to read aloud… but decided that they would take turns reading. Otherwise the old man would think that the girl wasn't helping him study and resort to tossing her like a rag doll. He did that once when she convinced Connor for them to sneak back to the village. _Very. Big. Mistake._

"Hey," he snapped her from an unpleasant memory, "your name is here." The Goth nodded. This is where her name came from, after all.

"Yeah, my mom was going to call me Samantha or Gaia, but my dad chose this name. She was the wife of the man who would free his people from the tyranny of Pharaoh and all of Egypt. It's Hebrew for 'bird'."

"In some cultures, it is the symbol of freedom and power like the Roman Empire." He remembered from his earlier lessons. The teen nodded at the reference, but twiddled her thumbs when she realized how parallel her situation was to the story. Nope. Nope. Nope. _Change the subject!_

"So," she closed the bible, "any songs or stories from your tribe you can tell me about?" The native boy looked to the side as if he was doing mental math. After a few moments of dead silence, he turned back to her.

"I could tell you a story, but there is a song you might like to hear," he stated, "if you tell me of a song from your time."

What was with that grin, huh? Tsipporah started to think that all these wide, sarcastic grins she's been giving him are rubbing off. She tried not to laugh at the way he was going about it, too, but it was difficult.

"Alright!" she gave up, "there was a song I used to calm my baby cousin down and I can sing it, but… let me see if I remember; it's old…"

She escaped to her thoughts to find the words. She did. At least, she hoped she did. She gave it a shot anyway, so she sat up and took a few breaths to start:

_Now we've come so far from darkness  
And will never be apart  
So we leave for tomorrow  
To start our lives again_

_Find me there, my tiny feathers  
Of my holy ancient days  
You will calm all my sadness  
And ring your song  
Only for me_

Find me there, my tiny feathers  
Of my holy ancient days  
I will calm all your sadness  
And ring my song  
Only for you

Her eyes were closed, expecting a hit and miss. She peeked after she heard clapping and turned to Connor's direction. He stopped when she stared at him blankly.

"Sorry, I heard that's what people do after performances."

"It's just a song, Connor. Speaking of such, you promised me one, too, so _sing_," she poked at his collar, but barely moved. He was going to open his mouth to speak out, but then heard pounding on the door. The boy got up and reached for the knob, but the door gave him a high-five to the face. The old man entered, giving Connor a dirty look and looked to the girl and back to the youth.

"Even as you lay here wounded like a dog you manage to take up his time of training. I will have no more of this, understand, Aphra?" Achilles always got her name wrong. She believed he did that on purpose when she goofs off because when works and cleans he calls her by name correctly then.

"Yes, Master Achilles, I will not keep him. He was just worried about me—"

"Enough of the excuses, Samantha. Connor, you are to come down and finish sparring, understood?"

"Yes," the boy slid off the bedside and watched the girl as he left. He wondered with all of this training and study, will they ever have the luxury of a day off. No, he must train every single day even if it breaks him. The spirit is counting on him as his village and his unsuspecting friend. She knew him for only a few weeks, yet… she believed in him and threw herself to save him when she, too, was scared out of her mind. Such an event cannot take place again. Tsipporah will have to be left alone for a while to heal… to muse… so he can grow strong and have no one else hurt at his expense.

* * *

Running was impossible and hissed at the pain her nerves channeled. The wounds were almost healed the next few weeks, thankfully. Once Achilles _decided _that she was 'better', he worked her to the bone. The rest of the days were spent in training, academic lessons, and much more chores. "Forget it," Tsipporah huffed after running back and forth with laundry, "I got pulled out of my time to be an errand-boy."

"Patience, my friend," Connor sniggered, patting her head, "You have been chosen." "No, I've been conned; pulled out of a progressive field-trip to be a hand-maid."

"Heh, is it the missions or _me_?"

"Go fuck yourself, green-boy."

"I see you are well as the old man says you are."

"'As the old man says'," she mocked, "man, I swear that man is a pimp—waited for me to get better to give me job when I'm an _observer_!"

"Work going well?" a husky male voice teleported from… nowhere.

"Agh! No, no, no, no… senoritas everywhere… oh, my god…" she yelped. Achilles then pulled Connor aside to continue exercising. God, all this insane training with the mind and body, and he would definitely end up with the body of an Armani male model, the title of 'professor', and the endurance of a super-soldier. She also couldn't help thinking of how he would look like his father in his later years, but still retain the complexion and roots of his mother. Now that she thought of it, Kateri had said something of it…

"Hey, lass!" a gruffy voice greeted. Turning her heels, she saw that it was one of the lumberjacks passing by—one saved by Connor, once upon a time. Tsipporah nodded, acknowledging him and continued to hang the rest of the laundry. She didn't like it, but it had to be done.

"Afternoon, neighbor," she clapped her palms together from soreness, "nice to see you out at work."

"Aye. The winter's ended, but now it's so humid. At least the cutting will be easier."

"Aye, ain't that the truth," she replied, too immersed in Irish and pirate slang to not resist... but he was Scottish.

"The old man been keepin' your friend busy on his feet and head, eh? You seem pretty lonely in chores. I can ask me wife to keep ye company."

"Well…" she thought about it. It's been a while since she was surrounded by other fellow girl-mates.

"She doesn't mind really. Heard you threw ye'self on Connor, savin' 'im from a bad gutting, eh? Me wife thinks you courageous for that."

"Sure, I don't mind the company, but I do want to go fishing and eat—"

The middle-aged man plucked her from the spot and threw her over his shoulder in one swift move. She was laughing and shouting protests, kicking the poor and nearly broke his nose. The neighbor was trustworthy, though. Godfrey was his name. He was always hearty, making up for Connor's absence when he was out training. He was like the best 'older brother' in the world—this world—to her. Too bad she hasn't met the wife, though, but heard she was… 'very bonny'?

"Catherine! I've brought you a new friend!"

"You oaf!" a rotund woman of porcelain skin stood at the patio of a wooden cabin.

"Ye can't go grabbing girls at my expense. I said I needed someone to share the rest of the food with—you ask politely. Now—Jesus Christ, put her down!"

"You don't have to get all fiery with me!" he put the girl down, squaring off.

Tsipporah smiled broadly at the fit she was throwing. They comically went back and forth, almost forgetting they had a 'guest'.

"Forgive him, lass, he's impossible, but he _is_ my fella."

"No problem, my day was starting off on a weird note," she confessed. Connor had to get stronger and she can't just turn him from the right path. The world was at stake and everyone in Homestead knew it; some in Boston and New York, too. Catherine clapped her hands firmly and let the girl in to eat. There was… a lot of turkey on one platter with some corn and some ale, but the wife said she'd fetch some water.

"So I was told that you saved the boy from a bloody beating?"

"I got done in by a sword to my leg."

The woman brought her hand to her chest in shock, as if she heard about this for the first time. "It's getting better, don't worry. Same happened to my foot before, but no biggie."

"Yes," she took a drink, "Achilles told me of your bad foot: some muscle ripped under the skin before you came, lass."

"Do ye get these from brawls, miss?" Godfrey downed some ale, curious. That would be the case wouldn't it? It wasn't unfortunately. Tsipporah looked at the table and finally sat down and looked to them again.

"When I was twelve, my brother and I were waiting for our parents to pick us up from school. The older kids there were a mean bunch—taking lunch money and beating smaller kids until they weren't moving… One day, I saw them poking trouble with my brother and my brother stood his ground, never begged or cried, but got beaten. I took the first blow, but it was for naught… they broke his rib and I almost never had a chance to stand again. He lives, but what I did made no difference in his fate…"

The room was silent save for the birds trying to make their way in through the window. The couple sighed and looked at each other and begged to differ.

"But, lassie, you are standing. You are still needed for something greater than ye'self. Every day you are not dead in the ground—ye still 'ave something important to accomplish." Godfrey nodded in agreement, raising his ale to his wife.

"Like now," he now raised the ale in the direction of Achilles' mansion. Of course she had something important to do, but on some level, manages to screw it all up. She took a quick glance at the wife and ate her share happily, wiping her eyes of what was going to be bitter tears.

* * *

When it was past six or seven—she can't really tell—Tsipporah went back to the mansion, remembering to cook. _Damn_. Achilles is going to be on her like white on rice and getting past the patio seemed more frightening than playing _Penumbra_ when he was expecting her. She stepped lightly on the wood, glad that it was sturdier than before, but that gave her no peace of mind.

Suddenly, something swept at her ankles, tossing her on her back.

"Oof!" she chucked a breath, "…please don't kill me."

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already." The old man hovered over menacingly, not even bothering to help her up. The girl huffed and went back on her feet to get inside. Connor was already waiting at the dining table… and failed to arrange the plates neatly. The Goth shook her head as if her dog just pissed on the carpet for good measure and spite. She took the china and straightened out while Connor wore a completely stupefied look.

"Now I know why Achilles is mad at me, then again, I would never mess with someone named 'Achilles'—"

"Demi-god that was dipped into the River Styx as an infant, granted the skills of a killer, and fought in the Trojan War."

"Meh," she fixed the silverware, "I like the term 'baptized in the way of war' better."

Achilles coughed and gestured all to sit, since Tsipporah was done organizing the table. The food was already set, so they all passed what was there. It sort of felt like a "family dinner" with all of them together like this. It was starting to bring up some memories… for all three of them.

Tsipporah bowed her head in prayer as she always did before she ate. Achilles only sniffed and continued eating, whilst Connor was curious of why she was praying to already cooked and chopped animals. After a minute or so, she ate, but not in the most composed way…

"I'm surprised you're not tired yet, Con. You've been running all day and hunting. I was the one supposed to be doing chores. Sorry you had to go get food, too."

"I did not mind, really," he jabbed the fork at his food, "it is what keeps me from getting homesick of _Kanatahséton_. I never have time to visit or… 'hang out' with you."

"Pfft… please don't copy me, Con. I'm not the most 'socially-accepted' person here or back home. Don't be like me…"

"I second that," Achilles said, already finish eating.

"…You're done already?!" Tsipporah wasn't even close, but Connor had finished, too. She had many male friends at home save for Angie, but never lived or shared a dorm at all with ones non-related to her. Not to mention with assassins—18th century assassins. It's been days, weeks even, and her head didn't wrap around this still. She's been in pain for a few weeks, was that not enough proof?

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she chucked down the food on her plate like a vacuum. "I'll ready the beds," she stood and took the plates, "I'll wash when I'm done. Night clothes are in your rooms." She swung her hips as she walked away, somehow wishing for more excitement in the days to come.

Connor rose from his seat after his friend exited the dining room, sensing her frustration. They hadn't finished their conversation since the night of the Boston Massacre. He had left her alone, but for a good excuse. She had the neighbors to speak to, right? Perhaps the homesickness is getting under her skin at last.

Walking up the stairs, he saw her waltz into his room, changing sheets and fixing the bedding. She gave a soft gasp, sensing someone there—no, it was just the 'tree hugger'.

"Please don't sneak up on me like that," she clasped at her chest, "You almost… never mind. Need something?"

"I have yet to tell you about the songs from my tribe."

"Oh." She almost forgot about that, but if he wanted to share so be it.

"The Kahnawake song. My mother sang me this song before…" he trailed off and shut his eyes.

"You don't have to tell me if it's painful—"

"It's fine. I have misjudged you in the beginning and you did not discriminate. The Kahnawake song was sung by warriors returning home. My mother heard from one of her travels up north before I was born."

"Is… there a dance involved?" she was tempted to pow wow, but the old man would come out of retirement just for her hopping around, making a racket. She peeked out the door and made a fist of "success" before closing it.

"Ok… start, then."

"Alright, you follow."

She admitted to how surreal the dancing was. It was sort of like Afro-dancing at home. People would gather into a circle and dance, run, skip…

_Anioniha tewaten:ron_

_Kahnawake ietsi:tewe_

_Tsethiiatken se:ra'na niha_

_Ne iethinoronhkwa_

_Kak are'non:wa tsi tekanato:ken_

_E:tho tiotirharenion_

_Kak are'non:wa tsi tekanato:ken_

_E:tho tiotirharenion._

_ Friends, let's go back to Kahnawake_

_We will go home to see our loved ones_

_They will be out for a walk_

_Up and down the land_

_Waiting for our return_

Tsipporah soon caught up with the words, but stumble once her leg's scar started to itch and fell. There was pain, but laughed despite it all.

"Dude, I love native dancing right now, you don't even know, "she threw her head back in exhaustion. She was more surprised at the amount of time her injuries had stayed put. Perhaps Achilles was right about her wounds being "as tough as nails". Yeah, but even nails can be easily plucked out.

Dusting herself off, Tsipporah tossed Connor his "pajama dress" and went for the door. "Goodnight, hero, see you… whenever you get a break—which is almost never." She added and left quickly. Connor couldn't help but notice her change in mood since this morning. She seemed distant for awhile, but now bursting with life. Maybe getting her out of those dark, depressing clothes made a progress in her mood. …No, that can't be.

He took a breath in and changed into his pajamas, admiring its freshness. The blankets smelled of… fruits? Like her—Connor shook his head at the thought. She was his friend. Tsipporah was his supportive, spirited friend and that's all. He threw his head back, fed up with the unnatural thoughts he started having for her ever since he trained and studied harder—_dreaming_ of her, even… _No_. She was a _friend_. _Respectable. Kind. Tom-boyish. Friend._

* * *

"What were you doing?" Achilles tripped the Goth girl the fourth time today. _Ugh_. She had dropped the laundry basket in the fall, too. Why was old man always trippin'? Tsipporah huffed and gathered the clothes in the corridor downstairs, but Achilles pointed the cane a bit to abrasive at her face.

"Um… Connor showed me one of his tribal dances. That's all, I swear."

"He needs rest for the days to come. Understand that he needs all the strength in the world to survive training."

"That's why you kept me busy, too…" she said, deadpanned.

"Precisely. The days must only be occupied by studying with the body and mind. Any emotional corruption will only undo all a day's or year's work."

_Wait_. What the hell was he talking about? Where was he going with this conversation? Was he indicting that _Tsipporah_, Artist of the Year, Editor in _Poetry Suite_, and cosplay winner in 2004 falling in love? …They are thinking of the same subject, right?

"What?" she gave a sarcastic laugh, "You think I'm getting emotionally involved now, Achilles?"

"One does not think but _know_. You do not think that I learn of everything of you? I research the documentation and the accordance of information on one's character."

"In short, you eavesdropped on me about 'protecting people I care about'! I know you make the rules around here, man, but I would've eventually told you everything. And no, Achilles… as you would have guessed, anyway, I am not _crushing _on your student. If I've learned anything about heroes it's that they can't love because it's not in their place. Even if they are assassins…"

"So you understand your duties and his, then? You must observe him until he rightfully receives his robes and earns his title. When the time is right, you will go home. You will forget this life and he will, too, in turn."

He turned and left to the stairs, leaving Tsipporah a bit whiplashed at her own confession. God, that old man drives her crazy! No wonder Connor was upset of him when he tried to convince him to train him on the second day. She smirked at the memory. He was pretty pissed to be thrown on his back and rejected rudely. It was hilarious.

The teen gathered the rest of the fallen laundry and retreated to her room. As she went to the door, she felt her chest sank in. _She choked_. Her ribcage seemed to have squeezed the air out of her lungs, her heart climb up her throat, and her stomach burning its way to the surface. A moment later, she found herself frozen at her own door. A whole minute later, there were hot tears hastily streaming down her cheeks.

"I want…I want to go home…" she clawed at her chest, trying to avoid looking at Connor's door because it would tempt her to do the obvious after: waste his time resting. Quieting her sobs failed, so she scrambled to the room. She kicked off her shoes violently and stuffed her face into the pillow—muting her cries. This adventure is indeed nice, but everything seemed so empty now. All they were told to do was save the world, right? Right? After that she goes home, she hoped. There can't be any loose ends at all. They were just friends. Just friends. Just… friends. Just friends. _Just. Friends._

* * *

The later days had the community growing and the mansion restored, as well as reviving and ship, _Aquila_, used for the Assassins. Achilles grumbled and complained about the noise of the neighbors. Noise from neighbors…? Try a block party every week…

"Oi, girlie!" Catherine called. Tsipporah obliged, trusting that all their neighbors were friendly.

"You talking to me?"

"Aye, I am, dearie. I came to see you and your ride of a sham." The girl was stupefied and the lady only laughed at the reaction.

"Your fella, dearie, or is there another reason why you stay in the house?" The last few words she understood and quickly waved her hands.

"Uh, no, girl," her slang sprang up out of nervousness, "he is _not_ my fella, boyfriend—_no_! We just happened to be travel buddies as all. Very good buddies."

The woman begged to differ. "_Right_, and I'm the Virgin Mary."

"Ugh! He is _not_ my boyfriend or even close to that! I don't care how sexy he is for a fourteen-year old—"

"Excuse me?" a deep male voice caused her to petrify instantly. The woman waltzed off with glee and Tsipporah turned slowly to recover. "Hi, Connor, good day to you…" her words could go extinct and be turned into oil. Connor shook his head and patted her shoulder, urging her to follow him.

"You heard all of that, didn't you?"

"Part of it."

"You heard nothing, okay?"

"But I did."

"Fine, I _do_ think you're sexy, but it doesn't mean that I'm attracted to you."

"But because you see me that way must mean that I am aesthetically pleasing to look at."

"And because I say things like 'aesthetically pleasing' doesn't mean you can say it, too."

The drunken sailor, Faulkner, called the two to come aboard the Aquila for a test drive. "Drive" wasn't exactly the proper term in this case, but what the hell. Connor was really lost about his companion's behavior even more. He understood he was busy training and she didn't mind, but now… now she was acting more passive than she did when they first met. What's going on? He asked her once, but she bats around the bush. Women are so complicated.

Connor commented on how the ship—how "she" was solid and decent now. The ship was ready and the teen was 'fangirling'—a complete mood whiplash. _Pirates of the Caribbean_ have prepared her for this moment. Too bad her friend wasn't savvy to sea travel, or boating at that. Not even the taboos sunk in as they should. Tsipporah knew how women onboard were "bad luck" because it was a gang-bang of a distraction waiting to happen, but the men weren't really like that. Achilles had mentioned how "lucky" she is and the girl spat at the old man's mention, but thankful for the recommendation. They got the hang of stretching their sea-legs thanks to their ship-mentor, Faulkner. The native boy had the wheel while the Goth went back and forth, opening and folding sails swiftly. The youth even teased Connor, already calling him "Captain Connor". They reached the Vineyard, fetched gunnery officers that raised their ale to a new adventure. The Goth couldn't help but notice how this was like recruiting crew members in Tortuga.

"A woman on the ship, Faulkner?" the gunnery officer downed ale.

"Aye, but she is of good luck. 'Observer' if you will." Faulkner said with pride.

Apparently, being an observer was a big deal because the men looked to Tsipporah, bowing their heads as if she was the Queen of Sheeba. _Hah_. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all—No, scratch that. Tsipporah turned her attention to find that Connor was no longer next to her, but sassing off two gentlemen sitting at a table.

"Where is Charles Lee?" the boy spat with hate.

"I don't like your tone, boy," a fat man with a powdered wig looked about him with extreme prejudice. The other man sitting took this opportunity to square off with the tyke—show him whose boss. The girl felt her heart… nope. Probably her stomach falling out of her butt once the man stood almost to the ceiling of the pub, so she took Connor by the arm and he tried to shake her off.

"Don't be stupid, Connor. Let's just leave. We came and found what we needed—"

"So did I," he wrenched himself from her grip and lifted his chin to fight.

_Thank God_ the bartender-woman broke it up before it began, telling them to get the hell out. Faulkner could second that, dragging the kids outside to the docks. The scene was _ridiculous_. Even more ridiculous was that the boy barely had anything sufficient for kills.

"Learn to pick your battles, man! What fuck is your problem?!"

"I must find Charles Lee and that man knows where to find him."

"Are you well equipped? Do you have a fortress? An _army_? Stop being so hot-headed! Did you learn _anything_ about patience at all, green hornet?"

"What would you have me do? Wait for more disasters to come? Let everything _be destroyed_?!"

"You two love birds done chirpin' ?" Faulkner intervened, "We have to get back." The two children scoffed at each other and never spoke to each other the rest of the journey since they boarded onto the Aquila from the Vineyard. The girl silently ran back and forth, readying the cannons for the trip while the boy shouted orders, getting the hang of being a respected sea captain. Before they knew it, the sky darkened with the evening shades. From here, the crew had witnessed the most beautiful sunset ever to sink into the horizon line. Tsipporah wished she had a camera right now. The lavender shades in its path, the pink-painted clouds spiraling, and the salty sea air to boot.

She gathered all her courage to stand on the ship's railing, holding onto the ropes as it rocked. It was beautiful. It was all beautiful. …Save for the sudden man o' war ships tailing them. The gunnery officers shouted warnings and sightings. Tsipporah quickly learned how to use cannon and scrambled to gather gunpowder and cannon balls. On Connor's command they fired, leaving the waters to swallow the unfortunate ships whole. Getting fired on was so—_nothing was scarier_. One cannon almost blew the girl's head off had it reached four more inches to the right. _Damn_. The crews cheered once they wiped the sea clean of obstacles.

Faulkner laughed heartily, "We best get you two back to the old man. If we keep you two out a bit longer, the old man might come out of retirement just for me."

Tsipporah gave a weak laugh, knowing full well that Achilles could still kick ass. Hell, he kicked hers when she spilled ink in his study, accidentally. He didn't care how injured she was at the time. He took the chance of her limping to beat her with a cane like her mom did when she did something wrong. The whooping hurt, but it put her in line. He didn't play that "nuture your kids" nonsense, no. He _spanked_ her into line… Connor, too.

The girl yawned as did some other crew members, but still they worked and some fetched dinner since the sea was not so rough as it was shooting down British naval ships in the rain. The sky was blanketed with endless diamonds far out of reach, burning lantern-lights in the sky. The moonshine made travel all the better. Tsipporah knew that even with a camera, she could not capture it all, but relished in its beauty anyway.

"Bread and wine, miss?" a crew member offered a platter of food and drinks.

"Yeah," she had the gall to take wine, "I'll take that." And she downed the wine and ate some bread. She wished it had been rum, though, so she could get tipsy since her parents weren't here watching her. She brushed off the subject and leaned on a post, looking back to the sky. The stars were fully lit now. Nothing can ruin this moment—

"Tsipporah?" the "tree-hugger" snapped her out of peace.

"Not now, I'm still sober," she stuffed herself with bread, grumbling at the sound of his voice. She gave up anyway and approached him at the wheel.

"You have been distant for some time. Are you still homesick? Is your wound still hurting?"

"Well, that's the thing, Connor. I'm just the observer, so do you really have to know everything about me? Besides, you're here to train, anyway."

"That is true, but you seem to wax and wane in a very unhealthy manner." He worried. Tsipporah scoffed.

"_I can't smother you_," she admitted, "everyone I worry and care about, I smother them and I can't do that because you need to learn to take a hit, fight—whatever. I'm just too used to feeling responsible for what happens. Even now! I'm an observer; that _spirit_ sent me so _you_ can follow the right path. I just… didn't want you to die, seeing how compassionate you were to help your village, your friends, and how much they need and love you…"

A knot formed in Connor's throat upon hearing this. Smothering him? He never thought of her defending him from a fatal blow as he was a trainee still _smothering._ She had protected a fellow "brother-in-arms" as he saw it, so he could continue his training for another day. How did she perceive such an act as—maybe as she would put it—"babying him"? It suddenly went off like a lantern light in his head. _The old man_.

He has been discouraging about whether he should give up his aimless journey and training and run back to his village crying. Achilles had pushed him to his limits, seeing if the boy would give up any time soon, but he never yielded to the temptation no matter how sore and torn his muscles were. Even when there were twenty pages of an article summary on philosophy and art, he would write until his fingers bleed and ached…

"The old man… he cornered you like a helpless deer…" he decided.

"Of course you would have figured out, but truth is: I won't be here for long. You get your earned title and I go home. That's how it's going to be. You get stronger and I get home. _Everyone_ is happy!" She bore a tight smile, wondering if it was the wine talking.

"I suppose," he narrowed his eyes, "then you are right. Seeing that are to leave once I gain my title, then there is no need to know much more about you or for you to stay."

"Hey, look tree-hugger, I didn't say—AH!"

Connor deafened his ears of anything else she wanted to add and spun the ship to a sharp turn, causing Tsipporah to flop and roll until she hit the post of the crow's nest. When she rubbed her head and looked up to him, she saw that his eyes were steeled, looking at the horizon without blinking every half-second. _She just had to say it like that._ "Everyone is happy"? Well… even as friends, it was going to be hard to disperse the party, but it seemed like he took it personally. It was hard for her, too, but rule of thumb says that having close relations is something they'll have to choose over heroism. She sort of wished that could be so…

* * *

The crew reached Achilles' home in Davenport, Homestead and heard the ramblings of the treasure of Captain Kidd. Like a fool, Tsipporah stepped back to listen, but was pushed ahead by Faulkner saying that it was rubbish and meaningless babble. She leant an ear to the old coot anyway for not just the treasure, but the mention of the Ancient Mayan Ruins that came with it. Connor tugged her along, impatient of her curiosity. Seeing Achilles again set bit guilt in when he stated that they were gone for three weeks.

"…we were gone that long?" Tsipporah stammered.

"Yes, not even a goodbye before you left, too."

"I'm sorry," Connor managed sincerely.

Apologies didn't matter at that point—not when there was something more important event to take place. They went to the basement and it happened. Incoherent voices buzzed through the girl's head. She knew what it meant. Her dreams haunted her of it.

"Connor," the female youth exclaimed softly, "I-I know I'm not the type to be _really_ honest with people, but… I just want you to know that I don't regret meeting you. I hope you get strong enough to protect your people."

He smiled naturally, accepting her words as a means to reconcile. Achilles gave him the Assassin's suit to wear, welcoming him to the _Brotherhood_. No doubt it belonged to the old man, once upon a time. When Connor stepped out, the attire was a bit… lumpy at some parts because of the size. The old man welcomed him to the brotherhood and girl walked off to the patio, proud at the scene. She didn't bother saying goodbye; it wasn't needed, but leaving on a sour note… _No, she couldn't_. She sat down Indian-style and focused her mind until the background spiraled.

"Your role must come to a pause," the 'spirit said.

"Will I… see him again?" she felt tears at the corner of her eyes.

"I sense that your partnership with him has grown. Its calculated outcome is negative. Should you choose to grow emotions for the guardian will result in an output that not even _we_ can fix."

"So I am going home until everything is set for a better age. I just wish I, well…"

"All will be explained in time. For now you must return to ready yourself for the next sequence. Seek this girl for whom you already know…"

Pictures of her friend from home spun in many corners. It was _Angie_—long, bleached unruly hair, similar taste in clothes, and love of the arts. She had to return home and tell her friend everything, but how will she react? Will she oblige? Will she refuse? Will she think her friend a potential mental patient?

Then she was gone from Connor's time and back to hers. Right where she was before: at the museum clad in black. No one suspected her missing at all. She did not feel the same coming back, however. Her heart strings pulled sideways and played itself something awful. The adventure wasn't over, but now she had to drain herself of any empathy when she goes back in, but how long would that be?

The tomahawk was there still encased. It was hard not to reach out and touch until security came and said that her class was leaving...

* * *

Thanks for reading and following guys! The given songs are "Ring Your Song" from Tsubasa Chronicles and "The Kahnawake Song"

(Link to lyrics are in the lyrics)

from The Kahnawake Mohawk tribe. I'll update in a little while, since I have to work on some school projects, but I'll be typing! Hugs

and kisses!


	5. Chapter 5: Montage

**Hey guys! So as a head start these "()" are for Mohawk speak and this "" for English. Enjoy! :D**

* * *

Evening blemished the sky and clouds gathered behind the cliffs near Davenport manor. The residents had disbanded from work outside and retreated to their respective wooden cabins. Everything from the whistling wind to the ever-watching eagle was quiet save for some last minute wood-cutting. Some stayed out until the sun completely slept and allowed the moon to show her face.

A slender girl waltzed in carefully through the entrance of the woodland, looking for familiar faces. For her, it was months upon months since she saw her friends' shining faces and she missed them so. Every day she was to work to perform the duties of the perfect bride, she somehow allowed her lips to speak of those she missed. Even her chubby loved one was saddened and accompanied her to their training space of Davenport, sneaking off from their village when their hearts ached.

"Kanen'tó:kon," the young girl took the boy's hands in hers, "I hope Ratonhnhaké:ton and Tsipporah have become strong as Clan Mother hoped. I wonder if they are hurt… if they are—"

"You must believe in them more than that, Kateri," the chubby boy protested, "Tsipporah is well at playing _tewaarathon,_ and Ratonhnhaké:ton is well at hunting and tracking. They are well, I am sure."

Kateri took her potential lover's words to heart. Of course they were strong. They _are_ strong. The two went up to the patio of the manor and knocked the door, waiting for an answer. After a few minutes, the door finally creaked open to reveal a fellow native boy. His childhood friends smiled brightly at the sight of their dear "brother". He seemed to have gotten a bit taller since they last saw him several months ago.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton!" Kateri latched onto him happily, but weakly returned the hug. As she loosened her arms, Kateri skipped into the manor. Kanen'tó:kon followed suit, but noticed the indifferent expression on his comrade's face.

"(Is something troubling you?)" he spoke in their native tongue.

"(No. Nothing is wrong, my friend.)" he kept his gaze to the floor.

The distant, pestered ramblings of Achilles sounded at the sitting room and Kateri ran back to the two boys, petrified. Connor couldn't help but smile a little at Kateri's level of inquisitiveness.

"What are _they_ doing here?" Achilles pointed his cane accusingly at his apprentice.

"They wanted to visit me, master," he answered, deadpanned.

"Where is Tsipporah? I want to see her!" Kateri squeaked.

"She is gone," Connor huffed, fed up with hearing her name. He wasn't sure why he had been a bit on edge for a while. The neighbors had missed her deeply, asking about her for quite a few days after she went back to her time. She didn't even say goodbye or that she hoped to see them again. Why was that girl always like this?

Kateri froze on the spot and furrowed her brows, shoving the Assassin in her denial of his words. No way! She didn't even say goodbye! Why would she just leave and say nothing to no one?!

"You speak of lies, Ratonhnhaké:ton!" Kanen'tó:kon held his love back from letting her feral anger unleash itself. Achilles sighed deeply and asked the visitors to keep their voices down, but their minds had much to muse. Connor shut his eyes tightly and opened them again, turning to leave up the stairs. He told his friends that they were welcome to sleep here and leave tomorrow if they wished it, but Kateri wanted to leave now.

"_Did you scare her off?_ I had always thought she made jokes of you hating her, but I think I have misjudged her talk—"

"You know _nothing_ about her, Kateri!" Connor raised his voice loudly and stomped to his room, slamming the door. Kateri started to cry and bury her face in her beloved's shoulder. Kanen'tó:kon patted and stroked her hair, cooing her to calm down. She didn't understand, but the close friend did. When Ratonhnhaké:ton gets like this, it's usually when he gets into fights with people. It had happened once when they were children that everyone would laugh at him, calling him a "half-breed" and ran back to his mother. He is stoic now, but his friend hasn't seen this side of him since then. Not so often.

The old man inquired the two if they planned on staying for the night or not. They nodded; climbing up the stairs to what was their new friend's bedroom. Kanen'tó:kon told Kateri to get some rest while he tries to talk to his childhood friend. She said nothing, turning her back to him, obviously saddened still.

* * *

"(Ratonhnhaké:ton?)" the chubby native opened the door of the room across.

"(What do you want? I'm tired…)" a cranky native was on his bed with his knees to his chin, curled up tightly. His friend closed the door and stood in front of him.

"(Kateri and I will leave early in the morning, but _I_ will not unless you tell me what's wrong. Tsipporah left without word, did she not?)"

"(The spirits have taken her back. I do not know how long that will be. She has protected me once and I am now unable to return the favor.)"

Kanen'tó:kon smirked. "(You are disappointed because you cannot aide her.)"

"(She was sent to observe me train and become stronger, but wanted us to get along… yet I know nothing much of her and seems to have no desire for me to know. Somehow, still, her face haunts my dreams; replacing my nightmares. Even her songs fill my ears when she is not here.)"

"(You just miss her, Ratonhnhaké:ton. This is how Kateri and I started. Kateri was strange, difficult, and is afraid every time I hunt. Now, after a long painful time, she confessed that she had feelings for me, wanting to marry when we are of age.)"

_ Wait_. Where was he getting at with this? Connor suddenly had the urge to shove his friend out of his room. Was he seriously telling him the story of how he and that restless hare came together? He didn't need that. He just missed his potentially good friend as all and nothing more. Besides, Tsipporah's man-ish personality and constant mood-swings made it almost impossible to get along with her… but her complexity intrigued him.

"She did say I have… 'handsome eyes'?" in English, he finally looked to his friend and responded by patting his shoulder.

"Then she sees a good spirit in you. What about hers?"

"_Dark_. There is color there, but covered with shadows of doubt and confusion."

"It must be what keeps her from speaking from here," Kanen'tó:kon gestured where his heart was. Connor smiled and stretched himself, scratching his neck. _The band-aid she gave him_. Of course. She doubted that she could protect anyone, but was that it? She was always raising her voice at him when he said he can do things himself. Like at the Vineyard…

"(Thank you for speaking to me, my friend.)"

"(You are most welcome.)" Kanen'tó:kon went to the door and wished his friend a good night. The door closed and Connor let himself be drifted into sleep.

* * *

"I see… so you—alright, stay here until rehearsal is over. I'll get with you."

"Thanks, Angie."

Tsipporah's face was hot with stress. Her heart was pounding the whole time explaining everything to her friend for an hour since she came back from the museum. She ran all the way back from the museum, ignoring her teacher's hollering. This was urgent; too important to hold until the late afternoon. She even told her sister nothing but to go home without her.

The stitching on her calf-muscle down her leg only proved otherwise. Angie recognized it to have healed for months, but Tsipporah wore a skirt the day before—her leg bare of serious injuries. The companion was in the dance room, spinning and allowing her sweat to fly with every movement. Her head was full of concerns. She had met an Assassin and was chosen to be his observer. If she was an observer, then that means she's—

"Alright!" the dance teacher called, "Remember the dance; practice at home if you can. We have a ballet in two months time. Good night, everyone!"

Angie pulled out her hair-net and went to her friend's direction. She's been dying to get out of these soaked clothes. She hooked her arm into Tsipporah's, permitting her to follow her into the girl's locker room. Other girls stared and giggled, asking Angie why she'd let a _boy _come into the girl's place. Her Goth companion flipped the bird, sassing them.

"So who did you watch?" the blond stripped down at the back of the room, rummaging through her locker for fresh clothes.

"Uh… it's a long story…"

"I like long stories. Shoot."

"Okay, I went to a Mohawk village—1770's!"

"Wow…"

"The Boston Massacre happened and my friend was in trouble… I got this scar as a result, but I did go on a man o' war ship. It was _awesome_."

"What about the guy to watch to be an Assassin?"

Her heart sank and she looked down. She swore if she had porcelain skin, she'd be blushing like crazy. She'd be a tomato. Angie already saw it. She reached out and touched the timid youth's face to see her eyes. Whoever she was watching, she revered him greatly.

"I… everything was great. It was fucking perfect! And that boy's my age and native, and plays a mean lacrosse match when he found out I play rough, too. He's so gorgeous, I swear it, Angie. He was a rude motherfucker at first, but then it just—"

"So you like him?" she concluded, "You want to see him again. If you're an observer, then…" she trailed off. She did finish changing her clothes and picked up her dance-bag, pulling her strap across her chest.

"Come on," she pushed her out, "there's somewhere we need to be."

The duo took the bus down to South Miami, which was not too far from the school. At least the bus was recent, so there wasn't that much grime. The sky was already getting dark and it was about ten miles, and across the bridge to get to Angie's condo. Speaking of her, she seemed serious after telling the 18th century adventure story. Tsipporah was dying to have a conversation with her, but her eyes were stern.

Once they reached the bus stop, a block away from Angie's place, the Goth finally spoke out to her. There wasn't much of a feedback, but it was better than nothing.

"Do you know anything about the Brother—"

"Don't talk out here. Wait until we're inside."

Well… they were inside, walking through the lobby room. It was grand as the interior was flooded with a golden ray of light from a crystal, semi-globe chandelier. The floor was red marble with ivory walls, floral reliefs painted gold and Roman copies in white marble. Heading to the elevator, there were men in suits behind them—which was a little too unnerving.

"Don't worry about them, they're my bodyguards." Angie pressed the 115th floor as two of the men fitted themselves inside. The Goth looked away to avoid eye contact. Stare at the wall. Yes. The wall looks nice. _This is a nice wall_. After a fraction of a minute, the doors "BINGED" open, unveiling a long corridor of ivory again, but with textures and Indian reds. The doors down the line had numbers painted gold with keycard slots at the knobs. Once they reached #333, Angie abruptly stopped, pulling out her key and slid it in slowly until the slot sparked green with a buzz.

"Inside, babe," she walked into a white room with her bodyguards pushing her companion in. Everything was literally white. Soft white carpet, white leather furniture, white flowers in clear vases—everything was pure white.

"Your place is… clean," was all she could muster.

"Yeah, that's how we organized for better flooring."

"'_We_'?"

"We—the order of Assassins."

Holy shit. Wait, this is too much. Tsipporah's eyes widened like a child's seeing candy everywhere. Angie, her life-long Louise to her Thelma, is an assassin? Was she making this up? Is Ashton Kutcher coming out from the walls anytime soon?

"Whoa… wait a minute—wait a… wha—wait a minute."

"I know this is a shock, but it's true. This is why I've been busy for a while."

"Ah fuck… why did you hide your adventures from me?!"

"You should know by now that these 'adventures' aren't a walk in the park. They are dangerous excursions that, once finished successfully, could save the world in one sweep. You have already heard of the Templars, yes?"

"Yeah, babe."

"Good. Then I won't have to say much." She circled around to her couch, "Sit down. I got something to tell you about. Let me lay down the down low." Tsipporah obeyed, following suit to the couch. She waited for her friend to say more. Of course there was much more to talk about, but the Goth had questions of her own about her position given to her by "spirits".

"Alright, remember the myths of the First Civilization people on Discovery Channel talked about? The one the government said being a hoax—"

"Yeah, it offended so many Catholics," the Goth giggled. That and other religious groups were having a field day with the scientists who discovered a crystal sphere that can give them unbelievable power, but those under Christian favor saw it as blasphemous as human evolution.

"Well, the Apple of Eden was left behind as a gift from the civilization, but Adam and Eve felt at its power, losing their purity to stand beside their creator forever. Thus, mankind was marked for eternal damnation. However, the Pieces of Eden popped up in specks of history with other religious icons, but in the end, those went missing, too."

"So where do observers come in?"

"Observers, to be short, are manipulators of the Power of Eden—walking, human-forms of those from the First Civilization. Reincarnations simply put. You are one of them and so am I, but your fragment of power is the rarest."

"What kind of rarity? Like 'chosen one' rarity?" she wrinkled her face.

"Well, all you really have to know is that your senses are what the Brotherhood needs. They are the crossing between the Nexus and their own time. Their skills and abilities are needed to protect the gifts that the First Civilization left."

A light-bulb went off in her head, as if she recalled something of the past. _If the Pieces of Eden were used by the religious figures…_ She rubbed her temples, reliving her trip to the Vatican. She saw the Sistine Chapel in all its glory, studied the papacy… red crosses, cross scepters in every painting—

"Wait… the rod that Moses used to part the red sea—"

"Piece of Eden."

"John the Baptist?"

"Had it, too."

"Jesus…" Tsipporah held her head, clearly shocked.

"Inherited the Piece, too." she answered to the rhetorical statement.

It didn't take much to explain, since they were history nuts, but the realization of missed symbols flew over until now. The two would have to stay inside to look back at history at a different perspective in order to notice more and more. Angie pulled out all of her history volumes and philosophy books. The Goth pouted, recalling how the old man would have her write after chores of subjects in history even _she_ wasn't too sure about, but made sense now. Maybe there was something he didn't want her to know?

Angie took the rest of the evening to explain what they were going to do from now on. First, they would get ahead in their respective classes, getting familiar with everything they are taught and more. That sounded annoying because it meant that they would have to surpass others in _math_. Secondly, they would up their résumés and sign up for a decent art school in New York. It had to be New York for many reasons. All the while, they will train in secret in martial arts—that's all.

"Are we going to learn to kill how to kill people?" Tsipporah chewed her thumb. Killing people was a whole different level to be on and something she was incapable of doing. Sure she beat up some bandits at the Davenport manor, but she only knocked them out cold. She obviously isn't the most innocent person in the world either—having the mouth of a sailor and making innuendo jokes, but she could never cut open someone's insides out and play jump-rope with their intestines.

"Of course," Angie responded as if a "duh" was more sufficient. Tsipporah had never felt so much blood leave her face as quickly as she did now. Her lungs deflated at her friend's uncaring attitude.

"Way to start my high school year…" the Goth choked at the thought of having to become an assassin, too. Playing violent games was one, but real kills was a lot to take in. The girls stayed quiet a few moments more before there was a knock at the door. If she could, the youth clad in black could melt on the spot or fade into the white. She didn't know what she was about to sign up for at all.

"Hey! Good timing! Hey, girl, look who's here. This is the man who will train you." Angie opened the door to a man named Shao Li. He looked deep into his 60's, but wasn't expectantly short. In fact, he was slender, toned and tall with visible muscle curves. His hair shined ebony with a few grey hairs forming into a back spike. Li searched the Goth from her eyes to her toes, already disliking what he saw.

"Too wide. She must lose weight. At least she will in my care."

"Do I have to pay this guy," the teen sassed, pointing her finger out, only to have it bent to the side forcibly.

"I came upon hearing of your arrival, observer. You will respect your master." He released the grip and the girl scurried behind the blond. He reminded her of Achilles: bitter, old, and insanely strong for his age.

"No, you don't pay. He's here to train us. Had a feeling it would come to that, but we only have until graduation, Tsipporah."

"We're doing this 'til graduation?" she gripped the other's shoulders.

"Yeah, babe. You have to be strong enough to survive once you go back into the nexus. We have only until graduation to do it, too, and our first year in college. The Templars of this time are trying to find something, and _we_ have to observe where the pieces are being tossed to. There is already a descendant looking for it, but only we can step into the nexus without aide of technology."

"So we're really doing it? We're going back to the 18th century again…" poor girl wasn't sure to be happy or scared, but all she knew was that many emotions weaved around her heart chambers painfully. Her friend let her sleep in for the night if she wanted to for the next day was when all the training would start, but would still be under the guise of normal, artistic teenagers. This wasn't a dream at all. Even when she returned home, things began to change…

* * *

The next two years were entirely surreal. Their heads were buried into studies and they entered the honor roll, they had several features and honorable mentions for their talents, and their back would hurt at night after four in the morning from sparring like mad men. Just two more years and graduation would be there upon the glorious podium. The girls, despite everything, were happy to spend more time with each other.

Tsipporah thought that this was all on her; that all of this was because of her persisting wish to be with her friend—to hang out like they used to. Her wish came true as Angie wished it, too, but… They walked down Downtown's streets one day and the Goth converted teen watched everyone around her. She took notice of two small children, a boy and a girl, playing "shovin'-buddies" as they walked together. Her heightened senses made the conversation easy to hear.

"Are you sure you're a girl? You play football."

"So what? Do _I_ question why and what you play it?"

"No."

"So there. No more problems."

"Yes there _is_! Girls can't play football!"

"You're just mad because my wiener's bigger than yours."

Tsipporah laughed to herself, but wasn't noticed.

"_Am not_! I can't let my friend get into something dangerous. I don't want you getting boo-boo's because of me! I mean… I almost fell down the stairs yesterday and you caught me, but you broke your arm falling instead!"

"I just didn't want you to get hurt either… you were so excited about foot ball with your dad that I—I just didn't want one little accident ruin it. You seemed so happy. I want you to stay happy."

"Heh, now you sound like a girl." The boy was touched by her words, but hid it.

"Shut up! It's gonna heal in three weeks time, so whatever. You coming to my recital, Jay?"

"If you come to my little-league game, Ashley."

The two wrapped each other's arms around their shoulders and kept walking down the sidewalk, smiling at each other. Tsipporah could've sworn that the boy asked the girl if she was going to get a Disney wedding when she grew up and she replied with, "Yeah, but with you." Angie snapped her fingers at her friend's face, seeing her friend have tears form in her eyes. _God_, she was an emotional wreck.

"Alright, here's something for Winter-White Party. Like it?" the girls found a woman's clothing store to find formal dresses, but were restricted to white. Angie pointed at a white A-line dress on the window display. Tsipporah had changed her Goth and moody persona, finally letting out a little as her friend does, but somehow felt a gaping hole in her chest no matter what she did. Every shopping spree was fulfilling for a day, every lunch for an hour, and every shock of pain for a minute changed her, but still she felt bleak.

"Come on," Angie fussed, "You were okay yesterday. Wanna talk about it?"

"I just miss him, that's all. I think I got too used to the simple, working life."

"Or you just _miss_ him?" the blond flashed a Chesire smile, lifting her chin. "Come on; let's find you a nice, sexy princess dress to rock in! Oh yeah, we're getting our Brotherhood tattoos."

"I know I said I wouldn't kill anyone by choice, but maybe I should so I won't get skin cancer…" Angie thought her friend was kidding, but wasn't so she pinned some pressure points, dragging her along whether she liked it or not; ignoring the stares she got from people. When they finally reached _Ink About It_, Angie unsealed the pinned pressure points and her companion elbowed the blonde's face. The surrounding tattoo-artists laughed at the scene and went back to work, but a scruffy big man approached them.

"So you're the two on the bloody adventure that Shao Li put you on, eh? Name's Cold-cutter." He shook the girls' hand strongly. The only hope was that this man wasn't cold-cutter about tattooing like his name. The parlor itself was large in size and spacious with art scattered across the ceiling from flash to detailed work. Cold-Cutter had the girls go to a back room for their tattoos—marking them as assassins in their two-year period. There was another worker there as there were two flexible, leather chairs.

"Now we can give you the marks anywhere you'd like with something to add, too. If there's a special quote by the creed or something dramatic you'd to add to it for individuality—just name it."

"I want flint-guns on mine with the symbol where my heart is," Angie declared. The other man waved her over and she sat down, readying for her first permanent mark that would stay with her until the day she died. On the other hand… _Nope. Nope. Nope_.

"It's just one tat, girl."

"Fine. Fine. _Fine. Fine_. I'll get one just to have you shut the fuck up." The big guy swept the seat for the girl to sit down as she requested to have a large one on her back for good measure. She was an artist, so there were no restrictions on the size for her part. She also wanted it detailed—like the mark would Hulk-Smash out of her skin detailed. When he asked her if she wanted an addition like a quote or something, she looked to the ceiling, searching for nostalgia and smiled widely.

"I want an eagle in it; too, spreading its wings like it'll take off and go anywhere..." she said dreamily, remembering the cliff-falls, the eagle perches, and the river flowing through green grass… The teens sucked their teeth at the hot needle's contact on the skin. Tsipporah would have to endure the pain for a mere hour and a half more than her companion. She pressed her head into her folded arms, recalling the months she spent at Davenport manor. She yearned to go back there, which lead her to wonder if the place stayed the same in present-day.

Once Angie finished, she looked over to her friend's tattoo, amazed at the relief. An American Bald Eagle jotted out from the symbol, facing forward with its wings spread forth. The art wasn't completely colored and seemed like it would take a while. If it weren't for the strict "No food or drink" policy, she would've gone to _Subway_ and bring back a 12 inch _Black Forest _to share. She scratched her head and tipped over to see her friend's face. _The girl was smiling._ According to Angie, jewelry, promotion, or good sex can make you smile like that: natural and glowing.

"Okay, who did you there?"

"Hmm?" Tsipporah kept her head down. The pain would worsen if she moved.

"Girl, you're saying that you miss the countryside, the neighbors were awesome, and the assassin-kid was cute. Did you do something fun with him or something?"

"_Yeah…no_. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't. There's no latex where he lives."

"But _would_ you?" she pressed.

"Would I what?" her friend hated that she can't be very direct.

"Have sex with him?"

"No… I don't know," that was a terrible answer. Angie sensed an excuse and so did the tattoo artists. Forget about Subway. They can interrogate this one instead.

"What are saying, babe? Would you sex with him or not?"

"Oh my God, Angie… We were fourteen and I didn't have sex-ed class yet. I'm not a reckless whore like you are, _shit_." Honestly, the timing was off and she never had urges like that the entire time she was on another time plane. She loved the stories, songs, and thrills they shared, but all of it was innocent. Besides, if they really did something, the Mohawk tribe would throw a fit and would end up with an axe to the back. The symbol was nearly done and Angie stood silent at her friend's last remark. _She had that effect on people_.

"Go 'head, girl. That tat's nice!" Angie cheered and Tsipporah used an extra mirror to see her back before they would cover it from infection. She gasped at the detail and smiled at the entirety, but knew that this can never come off by the order of the Brotherhood. Removing it never came to mind, though. She the laser removal was even slower and painstaking. When she moved her hair from her nape to see more, she began to wonder if she should dye her hair. Not a crazy color, per se, just a lighter brown or something. _She grew tired of black._

* * *

Achilles caught his student owling on the roof, watching all the residence pass by. The community certainly grew over a short span of years. He was sixteen now that his birth date passed and his friends and neighbors came by, blessing him for another year of getting older. Godfrey and Terry said this was the age of a becoming man, in their comical way. His high cheek bones started to show through, and his shoulders showed some broadening with the extreme muscle work and training he's endured.

"Connor, a moment?" the old man waved the boy down from the roof and he obeyed.

"Of course," he dropped in, "what is it, master?"

"I know it is never my place to ask, but your master must know of this first. Understand?"

"…Which is?" he narrowed his eyes, puzzled.

"Why do you fight?" he poked the cane into the ground, curious.

"To fight injustice and protect those who can't rise for themselves… and to rid this place of the Templars."

"Hmph. Good to see your reasoning has yet to change. You are still naïve, despite those foolish lumberjacks saying otherwise."

"What is that supposed to mean, old man?" Connor had the feeling the old coot was going to have a field day belittling him again.

"Ever since your observer left, you've been out of sorts," he sighed, "I suppose that's the outcome of the events prior to her leave—women have a way of complicating things and she was barely such."

"She did not _complicate_ things," Connor said through clenched teeth.

"Of course she did whether you realize it or not, she allowed herself to get knee-deep into the secrecy that is the Brotherhood. That being said, she cannot really leave as easily as you think."

"She is gone," he rested his case, "returning home was all she wished for and had no concerns for this place; she said so herself."

Achilles really wanted to laugh, but knew that wouldn't make anything better since his student looked sincerely disappointed about the whole thing. Poor thing didn't know that observers leave for a short while in order to progress themselves. However, his student didn't let his friend's departure dent the long, hard years of training. Achilles would just wait for her return, maybe then Connor can stop threading in denial.

"Believe what you will, boy, but you must focus on the task at hand." He turned on his heel to go back in the manor. The "boy" inhaled and exhaled, overlooking the river that took in the afternoon sun's rays. In the distance was an eagle weaving through the sunlight, landing atop the mill. Down the road from there, he saw Godfrey and Terry arguing for the fourth time today. He shook his head and free-ran his way to them.

"What is it this time, my friends?" Connor broke up the two from bloodying each other's noses. The men took a breath before raising their heads to explain.

"This block head says he can take me on!" Godfrey readied his fists and Terry followed suit. The assassin wedged himself in between the bickering old men, pushing them either side from each other. After what seemed like forever, the two finally gave up on the ongoing quarrel. Connor sighed in relief that they did, too, but the men asked when the boy's friend would show. Connor frowned at the question.

"I am as uncertain as you are. Perhaps never."

"_Never_?!" the men were as shocked as gossiping teenagers.

"Why do you seem surprised of this? All she ever wanted was—"he bit his lip.

"Wanted what, Connor?" Terry stepped up and Godfrey followed.

He really didn't know why it bothered him so much when she said those things. She was always moody around him, but when she was with the neighbors it was different. Catherine said that she explained to her all that has happened before she came—her permanently twisted ankle, her busy friends, and other private things. Diana spoke of how feminine she really is aside from her masculine act. _An act_? That was not believable at all. His body ached more from that lacrosse match than any training session he's had.

"Nothing. I must go for a walk."

"I guess a little afternoon donner is good for ya, Connor. That lassie Tsipporah walks down the wood all the time, always spouting a song or two, and wishin' that you weren't so busy training and all—" Terry shut his mouth after seeing the boy's wrinkled, sour face twist with nausea. He huffed and walked off down the woodlands and the two men shoved each other again.

"You idiot!" Godfrey started, "he misses the girl and ye ain't helping him at all!"

"Shut it! The lad's mixed up; he wants her here and you know it!"

* * *

The woodlands were peaceful. The animals grazed as they were the day before as she sprinted through their homes. Kateri's mother really wished her daughter would not dare to creep upon the eagle's nest for a handful of feathers. In her wait, she thought of Ziio's words on love. Even if the men of the tribe adored her still, they could not shake off the unshakeable truth that she had given up her sacred fruits to a beast of the British.

Kateri's mother closed her mind, remembering how her mother fought her eldest after the Britain called Haytham Kenway… She heard strange noises from the sanctuary when she chased an eagle far in the sky. The little native woman grew curious, recognizing that it was her beloved sister. The noises were strange. It sounded like she was in pain… but was _enjoying_ it? The girl crept into the sanctuary, walking farther and farther in until she saw something that could never be erased from her mind…

"Will you have to leave soon, Haytham?" she moaned under his touch.

"Unfortunately, darling," he responded, "but the company won't be the same. I shall never forget our extravagant adventures."

"And I…" she gasped in ecstasy, "will never forget you… I love you."

The woman gasped loudly, turning behind a wall of the sanctuary to go unnoticed until she realized that the moaning had stopped. She would look back and see if something had happened, but she had to leave. What her sister had done was wrong. What would the Clan Mother say? She must leave. _She has a sister no longer_.

She instantly fell to her feet, feeling something wrap around her ankles like an animal. The woman scrambled upwards, balancing herself only to be face to face with a sliver of a blade. "Sister…" a soft, dulcet voice came to. The woman felt sick to her stomach.

"(I have no sister. You are no sister of mine, Ziio! You have bore your fruits to an outsider! You are not even married! …Your children will forever be cursed with failure if you continue this road…)" she sniffled, but Ziio scowled in disgust.

"Aghanashini, do not judge. This man has _saved_ our brethren. I shall deal with your nonsense later."

"No!" she persisted, "let us talk now! Burn your seeds before they flourish!"

Haytham cleared his throat, "Well, I suppose I should be going. I hope to return when the time is befitting. Good day to you, Ziio." He walked away, hastily pulling his trousers up. The two native women looked at each other, but Ziio had the urge to go after him. She wanted the man to stay, but she knew that that was impossible—too impossible of a wish. Aghanashini spat at the stranger, attempted to have every bone twisted and muscle contorted until no one wanted her, but Ziio took her out in one strike of a naked palm.

"(You are a traitor!)"

"Is this love so treacherous that you must destroy me?"

"(Do not speak the white man's words to me! You said you would be happily married—)"

"(Yes, to wed and have children, but you know that cannot be. I love him and not even you can stop it. I will bear his child and his child shall grow strong. I shall love whatever we bear and will know it. And whatever struggle my descendant shall face, they will trample it because _I_ was the one raising It.)" she brushed the other's shoulder, leaving her sister to cry out in despair at the sanctuary.

Since then, they have never spoken to each other again. However, Ziio would make attempts, but would be turned away abrasively. Clan Mother did not discriminate and neither did Aghahashini's eldest daughter, Kateri. Kateri would forever adore Ziio for loving whomever she wanted. She loved her cousin, even if her mother would beat her, telling her that she will doom herself to be in a half-breed's presence. It was disgusting in her mother's eyes. She carried within herself that hate for quite some time…

"(Kateri, my dear daughter, how many have you caught?)" the mother referred to Kateri as the girl climbed down the tree swiftly. She mimics the boys—no, worse. That walking black plague that came to the village a few years ago and immediately befriended her descendant; a black plague, to say the least, since she took along with her that speck of a half-breed.

"(Look! I have caught eight more. Clan Mother will be proud of me. Maybe I should collect more when Tsipporah come back.)" Kateri praised the result of her search that she held in her hands, but her mother struck the smile off her face at the mention of the outsider. The girl felt the ground under her in a matter of seconds, tears striking down her face, and feathers scattered about the grass. The girl turned her head to face her mother, slowly. She quickly took the girl's jaw in her hand.

"(You are to never speak of that plague again! Do you know what outsiders do to people like us? Your aunt is no longer a part of our family, understand?!)"

"Enough, Aghanashini." A boy's voice sounded through the wood. Aghanashini dropped her daughter's face, turning to find the voice.

"You may be Kateri's mother, but I am Kateri's husband-to-be. Release her at once!" Kanen'tó:kon brandished his hunting knife to prove a point. The native woman spat and set her eyes on him.

"(Why do you antagonize me? I only want to keep you children safe yet you turn me away. Will you turn me away, too, as my whore of a sister did? she trampled Kateri's stomach I will have no more of this. That plague and that half-breed will never return! They will bring horrible things to our beloved home, do you not see?!)"

"(Kanen'tó:kon!)" Kateri choked under her mother's foot and he was compelled to knock the menacing woman on her back if he could. He rushed in a flash when he saw Kateri spew a fountain of blood from her mouth, knocking the 5'7 in woman into the rubbish. The boy checked his love's neck, then her face, and tried to read her breaths. _She was fine. _Kateri kept coughing and sat up, leaning against Kanen'tó:kon tightly.

"Kateri?" the native boy held his hand against her face. She shook her head.

"I am well…" she hiccuped and threw her head back, growing dizzy.

"You are not well. I will take you to the village! Do not die! You will live!"

The mother was out cold; therefore she could not make out what has happened, but knew that this "home" was no longer her home—not the home of her birth…

* * *

"What is your name?"

_"Artemis." "Aphrodite." _

"What college will you go to?"

_"The School of Visual Arts." "The Julliard School."_

"Where will you work?"

_"World MMA for Masters Union."_

"Where do your loyalties lie?"

_"The Assassin's Creed of Brotherhood."_

"Who will you trust?"

_"No one."_

After graduation, the girls retreated to their master's den when no one was watching. Four years already passed and they completed most of their training. _Most_. The years did not seem so real and they were taught to trust no one; and to stop the Templars. The least of their problems were them trying to kill of all of the assassins. Tsipporah had asked why, but her question remained unanswered. Only told another year before they go into the woods that once belonged to the Mohawk tribe in what was Mohawk Valley—the strongest synchronization lies there. The only thing that the novice observer thought was that she was going to see all her friends again, but couldn't celebrate aloud…

* * *

"Let me join, Connor!" Kateri pleaded. Evening already fell and she should be going home, but even Achilles couldn't dissuade her. Connor kept pushing her away after she recovered from her "accident", wanting her to rest and even that was proven impossible. The native woman kept kicking and banging the door until the old man had enough of her useless babble at the Davenport manor.

"I shall aide you even if it means death. I cannot just stay in village waiting for it to be attacked again!"

A much mature Connor leaned on a post of the patio searching Kateri from head to toe. She shared a lot of his mother's features despite not being a sister of his, but a cousin. Her persona was even more so. Just last week, she snuck off to Boston to steal weaponry and her only cousin was very displeased in her. Then yesterday, she proposed that everyone should start calling her "Alice" and Clan Mother laughed, but knew she was serious. Now she decided to spend the entire day wanting to join the Brotherhood.

Her cousin shared pity of when he was eager to train, but he still wanted to protect his village—not recruit them—but "Alice" wasn't making this easy.

"Answer me whenever I call, understand?" Connor decided.

Kateri started acting childish again, jumping and ululating as if she had won a war, and Achilles jabbed her side for her complete silence. She obliged to the jolt of pain and quieted in a small fit of laughter.

"Do not worry nor fear, 'old man', I am good at hiding and ambushing. I have also learned the ways of the firearm from the colonists who were kind to me in Boston. Your friend Samuel Adams, dear cousin, is a good man."

"As he is, but careful threading in cities, 'Alice'; there are people—"

"I am no child, 'Connor', and I do not fear death. All I wish to do is help my people, too." Indeed, she was no child anymore yet she was still innocent and sweet as one. Connor hoped that his precious family member would not be subjected to enter into a bloody adventure, but little did he know how the bloody adventure would find his village first…

* * *

**Thanks for reading guys! I'll keep updating and I am grateful for having people following and viewing my first story. It might take a while for the next update, though, because I busted my thumbnail-I've been typing with nine fingers. XP**

**Anyway, next chapter: everyone comes back together! Reunion~ XD**


	6. Chapter 6: Encounter

"We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately."  
― Benjamin Franklin

* * *

Tsipporah felt her heart sink into her chest as before, but not in fear—in anticipation. She was brutally molded to never trust anyone, but deep down she felt that it had opened up some buried wish to have an adventure of her own to share with her friends. Speaking of friends, she wondered how long before she will see the ones of the "flipped time-planes" that the spirit 'Juno' spoke of. She had found herself in the forest near the Mohawk Valley once more, but this time she had a friend tag along.

"Man, the trip here was so…" Angie tried to find words for what had happened. They focused and meditated, hearing Juno's words and slowly faded to the past. Thankfully, the girls sustained no brain injuries. Tsipporah recalled almost having a nosebleed, but everything was planned vigilantly as well as carry-on weaponry and attire.

"Come on! I wanna see the Clan Mother!" the novice assassin took her blond attendant off of the woodland rubbish and to the direction she vaguely remembered. At fourteen, when she was here, visiting the tribe's village was on rare occasion was immensely treasured. She wondered how the Kateri had grown into a woman, Kateri's lover into a man… _and her travel companion_…

There was movement in the bushes and some quiet breaking in the trees. Angie narrowed her eyes for a better look and decided to climb up the tree trunk. She waved to her companion to follow suit, so she obeyed. Why did it seem like a good idea to have official assassin attire with heels? Tsipporah felt like kneeing herself or head-butting her friend for not stopping her from doing so.

"Hey, babe, look at this." Angie pointed at young native children hiding in tree-piles as the girls sat on high branches. Fortunately, from here they could see the wall and the longhouses. The novices felt themselves stir with excitement. The children were fine. Everything is peaceful… for now.

Some suspicious men with packs on their backs were walking up the road, chatting about some funny business. The girls held their breaths to hear:

"So there's this rumor that this whole land will be on sale."

"We should check it out now to get a head start of the tour."

"But won't there be some Indians here?"

"They'll lose this land, they might. If they start running and screaming, we'll blow away the red devils, eh?"

"Good plan."

They were headed for the children now, for their laughter caught attention. _This is bad_. Tsipporah was ready to give her position away, but her companion pulled her back to remind her of her training. The women silenced themselves upon hearing shrieking coming from below them. The little ones dispersed at the sight of the bandits and the two grown men responded with the spewing of fire from their guns. _Tsipporah could take no more of this chaos…_

Was she not trained to defend herself and others? She whipped out her elbow blades from her sheathe from either side of her hips, loosening her wrists as stood on the tree branch. Angie made a harsh effort to coax her companion to not be alarmed, but to no avail; for the novice could not think over the sound of frightened children.

"I'm going in."

"What? No!" Angie whispered harshly, "What about your training?"

"You mean the self-defense training to defend yourself as well as others?"

"Don't blow your position, babe…"

"Why not?" she was annoyed now, her legs itching to jump off.

"Because you're still a novice, that's why."

Tsipporah sniffed mockingly, "I'm going down there and save them, anyway."

"Babe, why—"

"Because fuck you that's why!" Tsipporah swooped down, digging her weapon of choice into the back of an unfortunate suspect. He cried a silent scream before he breathed his very last breath and the girl moved in for the next kill. She sort of felt sorry that it had to go down like this and could not rectify the issue by talking it out like real gentleman and homo sapiens should—The other bandit grabbed a hold of one of the children while the rest ran in the direction of the village. The novice hid behind a tree for a sneak attack, but had to hear this fool belittle this child…

"Listen, you little piece of forest shit, I came here for a peaceful hunt and what do I get, hm? My friend gets a bad jabbing by a ghost and someone's going to pay for it." The poor child didn't cry or didn't scream immediately as this man grabbed him by the neck, backing him into a tree trunk roughly. The child's brown eyes turned from his tormentor to whoever was behind him and the man's gaze followed.

"Boo." Tsipporah gave a Cheshire grin and the man became frightened himself, sprinting off, but was caught by the collar in a weak attempt to do so. The novice clicked her tongue, shaking her head in disappointment.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to pick on someone your own size?" the man whimpered, but then tried to sucker-punch only to be thrown on his back in a swift nanosecond. "That wasn't very nice…" screw morality and mercy, that shot was cheap! He tried to punch her again, so she yawned and broke her knee into his nasal cavity. She then took her elbow blades and cut deep at his nape as he turned—ending him. Angie shook her head and followed out of the high tree branches, landing a foot away from her friend. That was reckless. Those men could have left anyway, so why all the hostile work done?

"(Are you alright?)" Tsipporah brought the small native boy to his feet.

"(Yes, thank you—wait. You were here before! Kateri cleaned your face!)"

Tsipporah couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "(Yes, I am. I need to speak with the Clan Mother of my arrival.)" The child nodded happily and took his hand in hers, leading the two women to Kanatahséton. Angie eyed her friend cautiously, not having any knowledge of her knowing any Native American languages.

"You speak Mohawk?"

"Yep; went to a seminar every Sunday. What? You thought I would come back unprepared? Pfft… I might as well talk to the people living here if I'm gonna stick around."

"Ok. You should've told me you were studying; I'd like to learn, too."

"When there's time, I'll teach you."

"Sure. I'll hold you to it."

The walls of the village finally came into view and the trio put a hop in their step. _She was finally going to see her friends again!_ In a few minutes, the novice would find herself losing all composure and proceed to squeal like a retarded seal when she sees familiar faces surround her. However, the few familiar faces she expected to see once the three stepped inside the walls were not present save for the Clan Mother speaking to the children that were rescued before. The Clan Mother promptly lifted her gaze from the young ones to see a face she has not seen in a long time.

"(Now there is a face I have not seen in a long time.)" The Clan Mother smiled sincerely, gesturing the novice to join an embrace. It felt so good to finally communicate with the Clan Mother, among other people. The children pulled at the woman's sleeve, thanking her for aiding them in the forest. She responded a "you're welcome" in their native tongue and was so full of pride to do so.

"(Come, we must speak inside.)" the Clan Mother lead the two to one of the longhouses. There was so much nostalgia everywhere the woman stepped. The village gave adoring gazes, remembering the woman to be the one to play the clan's dangerous sport. The interior of the longhouse was still as dim as ever, containing a few bonfire lightings and the natural sunlight peeking through. The wise old woman sat down near a planted fire and gestured the girls to follow suit.

"(Ratonhnhaké:ton has told me of your leave, but I had sensed your return. It is nice to see how all of you have grown into fine, young adults even if our meeting was quite brief.)" Poor Angie had no idea what she was saying, but stared at her friend for answers.

"(Believe me when I say that I have tried to visit to seek advice, but the old man on the hill would not let me or… Ratonhnhaké:ton. I am very happy to be; make no mistake.)"

"(Indeed. Kateri, Ratonhnhaké:ton, and Kanen'tó:kon are all eager to see you again.)" Tsipporah felt giddy at the fact that even Connor was missing her. She wondered how all of her friends looked now, now that they getting out of their adolescence. She bet they looked more mature than she does now. The novice let her hair be braided in and the rest of it was loose as well as her cheek bones being more defined, and the rest of her being toned. In short, that much of her has changed. Angie poked to ask of what they were talking about.

"My friends want to see me again."

"Even the cute-assassin boy?"

Tsipporah turned back to the Clan Mother. "(Has Ratonhnhaké:ton visit at all?)"

"(The best he can with little time he is given of leisure. Kateri left to live with him to join the Brotherhood as well. She said that you have inspired her to see the rest of the world. I gave her leave, as she has grown into a fine young woman.)"

_Kateri_. The "genki-girl" of the village and cousin to the "tree-hugger", she was the first to want to be friends with her. The novice wondered if she had a wedding dress made for her ceremony to the chubby guy. The girl giggled at her musing for he probably grew out of his weight since he, too, hunted. The girls got up from their spots and dusted themselves. The old woman took the novice's hand in hers.

"(You, too, have grown. You seem more certain of yourself.)"

"(No, I have not grown, Clan Mother; to a woman and a better fighter, but… there is something that I must ask. Do you still have the crystal sphere?)"

"(You need not explain. This tribe has protected it for many moons. Have you come to remind us of why we must keep it safe?)"

"(More like a 'make sure no one else like the colonists touch it', Clan Mother. It was a gift—a sacred gift from the First Civilization. Anyone who tried to harvest its powers—)"

"(—Goes mad and their mind become lost. I am aware, but some here are not, but it is no trouble for the people here are pure in heart. I know.)"

She ended her part of the conversation with an honest smile and gestured the girls to leave at their leisure. Tzipporah's worry for the village being swept away by 'godly forces' finally passed, but knew that because of what they were protecting… it's just a matter of time before the Templar branch will attempt to breach the sanctuary _again_. Angie waved a goodbye to the old woman and her friend followed, shutting their eyes to the flash of sunlight. They looked to each other for their second course of action.

"So… Davenport, Homestead. Over the cliffs we go!" Tsipporah pointed to the high cliffs and her companion sighed at the sight, but leapt at the only option to reach their destination. They rose and fell on the ragged rocks and finally reached the forest on the other side. Strange that the trip this time seemed faster than the first time she was here. Perhaps it was the heightened stamina and agility she acquired from training that took them only twenty minutes to get to the other side.

"Careful of this forest, Angie, there's wolves and—"something whipped the air and hit a hare that was only a few feet from her. Somehow, those years of training failed to change her into a _stoic_ weapon. She was petrified at the feel of the sudden rush of wind, the spark of fire that came after, hoping it was who she thought. Angie choked on her laughs in between her breaths at Tsipporah's stand-still, looking like a statue-kid, but all the hilarity stopped at the sound of trees rustling. _Great_.

A frustrated tone huffed its way to them followed by a discouraged woman holding an 18th century hunting rifle. Her hair was a shade of scarlet, her eyes were of oak, and her skin was unblemished porcelain. She took a small gaze at the strange women and made commanding steps towards them, cocking her gun with an admonition.

"May I ask what business you gals got here?" she gave a curious look.

"We have business in Davenport, Homestead," Angie answered, but the woman scratched her chin and started to wonder what kind of "business" a couple of well-loaded lassies had in a calm, serene place such as Homestead. Tsipporah took notice of this and stepped by Angie to explain to her friend's dismay.

"We have come by invitation of Connor Kenway to meet here in Homestead. He offered a place to stay and we accepted." Yeah, she wanted to knock her ovaries out for that white lie. She wasn't even completely sure if Connor did want to see her again because she recalled that they had more vinegary moments than pleasant ones. Counting the old man in, he always tripped her a lot, purposely. Of course he wasn't going to be… happy about her coming back, right? _Right?_

The woman gave an approving face by the novice's words. Just about anyone who comes to stay and live in Davenport, Homestead is here for a freer community and a better life. She waved for the girls to follow her down the road. Noticing how this cautious this woman was with them had the novice believing that she was a very new addition to the community, but seemed laid back in a matter of speaking.

"My name's Myriam, by the way. I hunt a fair share of the animals down here in the forest and share my surplus with the others. I made that agreement once I decided to make this place my home. Nice of you to know Connor, by the way; that man is a good sort. Never met anyone as kind and compassionate as him back where I came from. Say, ladies, what're your names?"

"Tsipporah Martel and this is my friend Emily-Angelina Marie Burke, but I just call her 'Angie'." Angie elbowed her friend. Already she broke two rules and—never mind, she's been doing this in training, too. The more open she was told to be the more blunt she became, but her instructor did not perceive this as a fatal trait. Her emotions were less bottled up. _Well, most of them._

"Tsipporah… Martel. Hmm. I think Connor mentioned a gal like that. Said she was a good friend to have around even if she was a bit feisty. Is that you?" she laughed at the coincidence. Did he really say things like that about her? Is that how he saw her? She knew her potty mouth could outflank a sailor, but still… They continued up the dirt road of the forest until they reached the top of the hillside. Everything was as she recalled it to be, but then sought to be honest with the new neighbor.

"Yeah, I lived here once before with—"

"Tsipporah!" two gruff voices galloped their way to the novice, hoisting her off the ground and spun her around like it was a holiday. Angie was taken aback, surprised to see how her friend's "old neighbors" missed her so much; it made her want to cry a little at the reunion. The short commotion attracted the other neighbors, too. _Oh, boy._

"I guess you were the talk of the town, huh?" Angie patted her friend's shoulder.

"Shockingly…" Tsipporah was stupefied. She had never been this popular. _Ever_.

"Where have ye been lassie? Me wife missed you!" Godfrey confessed.

"No… me wife missed ye more!" Terry confessed.

"You oaf! Your wife has plenty of friends!" "So does _yours_!"

"**Whoa**, whoa, whoa, _whoa_… Gentlemen, let's be civilized about this and not drag women into the subject of debate. Besides Catherine, Diana, and I had awesome times together, but now I—Hey, break it up you two!" They were at it again and it didn't seem like they were going to stop either. Angie pursed her lips at the naked humor out on display and they didn't even get past the entrance yet. The novice completely forgot how strong the men were, but marveled at her own strength to be able to pull them apart. The two Scottish men were finally out of breath, but gave a light punch to either arm of their returning friend, glad to see her and she returned the light blow.

Breaking the fight in itself was too much to handle. The novice felt her stamina running low and was afraid to take on anymore surprised "it's good to see you" gatherings. They finally were near the manor—

"Tsipporah is that you, my friend?" a voice shrieked out.

"God, why am I so loved?" she chuckled at herself, feeling something rush up behind her to squeeze the life out of her. Her first instinct would be to hit the person behind with the back of her skull, but resisted. Once the hugging stopped and she could breathe again, out from the side was a familiar face, but more developed. Her skin was just about tan and her cheekbones were high and defined. Not only that, but this woman was a bit slender and taller as if she was 5'7—she could be a model, and her hair was that of Rapunzel; reaching beyond her backside and all. Her bright brown eyes gave away her identity, definitely. _It was her._ She was much taller than before and defined in most parts of her body, but it was her.

"Kateri!" Tsipporah's eyes watered a little to see the young native girl grow so much, kissing and hugging her tightly in return.

"It's Alice now, my friend. I reside here with my cousin. I have my own house here."

"Your own house?" the novice smiled widely at her statement.

"_With me_. She helps me hunt and trade, goes to see her fiancée, then scouts the woods with her cousin." Myriam explained and 'Alice' nodded proudly at the honorable mention. That must have been a big switch, but Alice was in the open air and worked with her cousin as much as she managed to; nice to see everyone growing up and old. Alice took the girls to the manor's patio and knocked the door until another woman answered it. The native woman enlightened the two visitors, saying that someone had to cook and clean for Achilles since the "observer" left. Myriam whistled to Alice, heading back to the forest to hunt for meat and furs. Tsipporah puffed a breath before stepping inside and felt her knees give in like she was carrying a load of iron.

"You okay, babe?" Angie was in the corridor and saw her companion painted with anxiety. Sure, she wasn't sure how _this _reunion was going to be. How much has changed exactly…?

"Cousin?! I am home and so is our friend." No answer…

"Well… I guess no one's home, so I'll just go—"

"(Ratonhnhaké:ton! Tsipporah has come to us! She is here!)"

_Damn you, Kateri_. She hoped she didn't have to actually see him right about now. Not that she didn't want to at all, but her nerves weren't in pretty good shape to manage a brave "hello" or "how are you doing". After a few more calls, the old man grumbled in annoyance, exiting from the secret basement. Well… he was about to have another reason to be _very_ unhappy.

"What is it Alice? I'll go deaf before I go senile with your unnecessary shouting." He looked up from the shade of his hat and saw the observer. She has grown since he last saw her. She was no longer short and a bit on the thick side, but was more shapely and _short_, having more hair than she did the last time and had less black save for her heeled-boots that had more white. He nodded at her appearance and picked up his cane from under him, jabbing at her stomach.

"You lost a significant amount of weight. Good."

"…Nice to see you, too, Achilles." Tsipporah was _itching_ to say 'fuck you' instead, but embraced and kissed him anyway.

"If you're here to live in the manor again, I suppose we could spare room for you—"

"And my friend, too?"

"And your friend." He turned on his heel, proceeding to close the secret basement, but Alice became impatient. She demanded to know where her cousin was or if he was in here or in Homestead, the Frontier…

"Connor just left to Boston with the horse and carriage, but I have more horses to spare if you plan on following him." The old man didn't seem to want to get in their way. This didn't sit too well with the novice. He would always degrade her in saying that she was incompetent, inept, useless, and should probably go back to clean—among other things. She raised a brow and crossed her arms, not even bothering to ask why he's being so nice.

* * *

Tsipporah went to the stables to fetch a horse, but Alice went off hunting and Angie decided to stay and check out the homestead. She wouldn't say why, but she just walked off into the woods and into the trees. The stables didn't change much, only that they were restored and it seemed that it's been recently sanitized. The horses recognized the novice as she came near them, chewing at her cuffed sleeves.

"Hey, it's been a while. Listen, I need to go find Connor and I need you to ride me to him, okay?" the horse huffed a nod and the girl opened his door, "Good boy. You are getting a big batch of apples once we find him, huh?" she cooed the beast, leading him out of the stables, closing the door and onto the road. Angie came into view and patted her comrade's shoulder, wishing her luck in finding "hot-stuff-assassin". Tsipporah rolled her eyes and straddled herself on the… rather large creature. She had long forgotten how the view from a horse was like and checked that everything was in order before she bolted off.

"I think I'm good. Ride, Archer! To Narnia—_Boston_! Boston is what I meant," she teased herself and the horse galloped at half of its full speed and left the homestead area. For a while, there was nothing but woodlands passing by with deer prancing, the fox and hare at play, and a legion of squirrels leaping from one branch to the white-stained bark trees. Seeing the forest like this would make one want to relax and forget about the trouble the British would bring, but that couldn't be the case. Tsipporah kept her eyes forward and tensed her body as 'Archer' gathered all the speed in the world. In fact, the horse's speed was suspicious, as if he had sensed something wicked upon the winds and urged himself to get this novice there as soon as possible.

Before the afternoon was over, she had finally reached Boston and as she suspected, it wasn't the same. Taxation worsened, people were rioting and complaining at every street corner, and the British soldiers were having a field day and their hands full with maintaining control in the name of the Crown. Good thing Tsipporah changed into her old work clothes to blend in for her assassin outfit was more flamboyant and stuffed it into a carry-on basket. After she pulled the mare over to the side of an inn, she used this time to find Connor… if she can find him. She pictured him getting more agile and more ninja-like, but a guy in a white hood would stick out like a sore thumb to her.

Her eyes wandered about the crowd and stepped forward to weave through. God, the streets were amuck with protests and harassment as feedback from the redcoats. This was much worse than the massacre and the girl itched at the fact that there was an even stronger possibility that she'll lose a limb in this crowd. She hastened her speed and looked to her sides. Left. Right. _There_! The alleyways weren't occupied much, but it probably wasn't the best idea ever…

After hearing a row of gunfire in the midst of rioting, she bolted down the dark way and turned stiff against the wall. Motioning herself down the narrow passage, a swift shadow fell over her and passed. She blinked a few times, figuring who that might have been, and instinctively ran her feet up the wall. Successfully, she found small crevices and brick poking out of the wall that her hands and feet were able to grasp onto for a lift, and finally heaving herself onto the tiled roof-top. Once she caught her footing, she pushed some hairs out of her view, capturing the sight and pathway that the rooftops ahead created, but noticed something else. _Something out of the ordinary…_

There were no guards, Loyalists, Redcoats, nor do any British followers on the rooftops are in the visual looking about save for the troops wandering the lanes below. Tsipporah thinned her eyes and gripped her basket, picking her feet up to skip to the next roof in a quiet pace. After a few more giant leaps, she discovers the bread crumbs that were left in the path. Finding Connor wasn't going to be so hard after all, but this conspicuous bread trail also didn't put her at ease at all.

"At least he's more silent in his kills now… What am I saying? I'm not proud at all to be killing people!" her last step onto another rooftop resulted in a slip up, leading to her tipping off the edge. She gasped, swinging her arms forward and stepped away. It saved her, yes, but struck a stake into her entire "stealth mode". "Hey! What are you doing here?!" a live soldier in red pointed his bayonet in her direction, shouting threats if she refused to get off the roof. The novice only stared blankly at him, as if he was a child with a toy gun.

"Get off, you mongrel!" he spat.

"What'd you call me, snowflake?" she brandished one elbow-blade from her basket and the soldier only stiffened, readying a good charge. She taunted him, waving for him to come at her, which he foolishly did. The novice tossed the bayonet knife out of her direction with her bare hand and dragged the rifle with it, proceeding to impale him with her blade. She quickly pushed him off her weapon, continuing to the next roof, feeling that she was close. Man, if she had the eagle vision, this wouldn't be so hard. Only after a while, she realized that she was by the port where merchant ships had parked themselves and unloaded their cargo. "It stops here…" she scratched her head, puzzled as ever, "Then where is he? I don't understand—"she felt herself bump into someone taller than her and immediately apologized, but felt all the air escaping her lungs upon seeing who it was.

A taller male of light skin, thin lips, navy clothes much embroidered by another nation, and an appearance much too similar to the man she had set out to find._ Haytham Kenway_. Tsipporah tried to relax, acting as if she knew nothing of his importance and brushed him by, but her wrist was caught by a subduing force and she already knew who it was. "I do not think we have been properly introduced, _observer_," a deep voice laced with an authentic, British-accent spoke about her. The novice wished this was all a dream at this point. Why did Angie make her come here alone?

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said innocently, but Haytham forced her to face him since she seemed reluctant. As expected on closer examination, the man was _very_ handsome.

"Let's not be coy about the situation. You and I both know our roles to play in the _real _performance and I believe it is about time you realize the trouble you will cause being up and about."

"I don't follow you, boo, and what makes you think I'll listen to anything you'll have to say—"The Englishman unsheathed his hidden blade at the back of her neck and the brandishing action rang close enough to her eardrums. Tsipporah bit her lip, looking to the corner of her eyes and breathed in sharply.

"Let's not talk here. I believe somewhere more private would suffice."

"_Why_?" she started walking under pressure, "Are you gonna rape and kill me?" she wished it was just a joke because hell would have to freeze over before she would befall such a horrible death. The other people around them suspected nothing as they looked, from a passing view, like a casual couple walking. Haytham scoffed at her rather accusing insinuation.

"Now what on earth makes you believe I would do such nonsense? Taking advantage of someone is the most degrading sport. I am a gentleman, miss." He forced her down the lane and into an inn.

"A gentlemen who's kidnapping his son's best friend." And at that, Haytham halted his threading and sheathed his blade as they were inside the dim, shady inn. He circled around her as a vulture would and raised her chin under his palm to see her face. Tsipporah wanted to get the hell out of wherever she was, but something of the man's face appeared suspicious—in a concerned sort of way. She furrowed her brows at the action and gripped her carry-on bag. Damn. Fighting him in a closed space would be ill-advised and as much as she'd hate to admit it, she really wanted Connor to just burst through the doors and save her.

"Why are you staring at me?" she backed out of his touch.

"So that boy… _huh_. He really is my… and those of the First Civilization send _you_ to be their eyes." He concluded and pushed her further into the inn, up the stairs in a rough fashion. The novice didn't like this. She didn't like this at all, but she'll have to find an escape route while this goes on.

"I don't even get dinner first? I thought you were gentleman."

"It appears that our definition of 'gentleman' differ on both our parts. Have a seat, would you kindly?" he shoved her into a wooden chair that was a part of a small matching table with other men encircling it as well. What made matters worse was that the seating contained faces that she and many other colonial assassins dreaded to see up close, but would rather kill them if the time was right. She really wished this was a dream right about now. _Right about now_.

"Looks like the assassins still have The Eyes. Pleasure to see you still well… and alive." A familiar face stood out—Charles Lee.

"You got some nerve hiding out here in the open, Lee. Connor's gonna find you and kill you."

"Really now? Is that the name of your boy is it? Well, know this, 'Eyes': we did not come here to be trampled by a simpleton such as you."

"Then indulge me. Why bring me to your secret hideout, dumbasses?"

"It's not it, if that's whatcha thinkin', gal. See we need you alive in order to find the missin' pieces and if you die by any chance… well, then. We'll just 'ave to 'ave a hard time lookin', won't we?" _Thomas Hickey_. He reeked of alcohol and sweat; wasn't very charming as he thought for himself. "And since you have a good relationship with the Mohawk tribe, we trust that you will fill in for future negotiations," another man suggested. She recognized him to be _William Johnson_. She stood and waved her hands for them to shut the hell up. What were they thinking? That she was just going to go along with all this? _No_, fuck that.

"I have no intention of working with you assholes that want to control the world and take away something that is important to all of humanity. I'm going to watch my hero save the colonies and I'll drink to your corpses. Good day, morons!" she sprinted out the nearest window she had been boring her eyes into half the time they were speaking out, shattering the glass upon contact. Of course, Haytham was watching her actions closely, but made no move to stop her. His fellow mates that were there gave a peeved look to their Grand Master, wondering why he did not stop her and he only stopped their complaints with the beckon of his palm.

"Let her go. Whether she sides with the assassins or not does not matter. What matters is that she finds the locations of the pieces." He continued to stare at the broken window the scattered pieces of glass on the floor-boards, smirking to himself of how the years to come of this Revolution would be…

* * *

Tsipporah thought she was going to cry, freak out—something. The faces of the enemy were all around her at once. Some stayed silent, watching her with curious eyes, while others gave a predatorily approach with a speech that followed. The ground beneath her felt fragile and she dashed off faster in need of getting back to her horse grew into a deadly tumor. Clutching her basket, she kept to the speed of the wind until she knocked herself into hard, stumbling face-first into the brimstone pavement. She didn't think about the throbbing headache that came after or apologizing for not looking at where she was going. Getting Archer and going to Homestead was all that mattered.

When she felt a strong hand pull her arm up, she lugged out her blade and swung it menacingly in a stance. After sucking some air in, she raised her head to see who dared to touch her in this delicate moment. _All of the peace had returned to her mind_. The figure before her that held her arm faced her through a large, low hood and a white coverage with fair skin and animal-skin footwear. Her eyes widened, immediately recognizing the image…

"Connor…" she managed with little energy she had left, deeming herself to stop talking. He did not answer, but held her so she can stand upright. Responding in gripping his shoulder, Tsipporah cleverly fainted into his arms, catching him off guard. Once he caught his own footing and held her better, she whispered, "Let's get the _hell_ outta here, there's Templars looking for my 'services'." Then she feigned a swoon again, clutching her basket like her life depended on it.

"As Achilles had predicted, you have not changed, " his matured voice sounded in the woman's ears, "You have cut my duties short today."

"Just say you fought a whole force and had to retreat…"She smiled, happy to hear him at last. The assassin gave a pestered sigh before weaving through the crowds to find the horse and carriage; perhaps even find the misplaced horse his supposed friend brought along.

* * *

**And so from here, I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving and may you all get fat! :D**

**Didn't want to make meeting Connor again _too_ soon, but we'll see more of him next chapter... and the chapter after. The romance will come-can't build Rome in a day, after all. Anyway, eat a lot of turkey and I want to give a shout out to Mz. Phantom, gracieann, bumbee88, Nyeht, KimikoSenpai94, InkOverLoad, GirlGamer1000, and Cereza101 for following! **

**Love you guys! I shall update. :)**


	7. Chapter 7: Synchronicity

"It gives me real concern to observe... that you should think it Necessary to distinguish between my Personal and Public Character and confine your Esteem to the former." -**Letter to Jonathan Trumbull, September 21, 1775**

* * *

Indeed, this girl had yet again disturbed an errand he had to run, but none as essential as eliminating Templars. In fact, he had gone through town to seek out Surry, Samuel Adams' 'associate' or so he says. He wanted to see if there had been some runaway slaves roaming aimlessly in the alleyways since there have been recent reports, but then this happens—a strange girl runs into his arms. It was not just any girl at all either. No, it was none other than his observer or as his mentor had out it, "The Eyes of the First Civilization". _Well, this was a strange coincidence_.

He had wondered when she was going to return if the spirit had brought her to him once, but here she was. Tsipporah attempted to suck in some air to sustain her, as if she's recently seen a ghost. All the worry seem to have vanished from her face upon recognizing the clothing as well as the white hood that obscured the young man's face. She breathed his name hastily with a weak smile to follow and collapsed into him once more, whispering a suggestion to leave. Did he really have a choice at this point? His mentor ordered his instantaneous return should he run into his observer stray on the streets. Connor didn't like this one bit, even as the novice gave a winning smile in her exhaustion, but weaved through the crowds of Boston to his horses and carriage.

The hooded man carefully laid her in the seat inside and nodded to his recruit who stood aside the horses to prepare to ride off. Once the door closed and they were traveling out of Boston, the novice quickly sat up in relief and placed her basket next to her. Connor sat across from her, watching how her figure rose up and began to twist around in comfort. "Oh my God, I'm gonna kill Angie for making me go alone! Son of a bitch…" she started to curse at someone he had yet to know, but the rest was inaudible. Tsipporah cut her ranting short to acknowledge that she finally reunited with… someone she wasn't ready to reunite with, but took the time to admire how his bodice finally fitted the colonial assassin's attire. It was like most hooded outfits she had seen before in research, but with a mash-up of the colonial militia uniform underneath along with some Native American beading patterns on either arm with animal-skin boots as well. The observer leaned over to see his face, but unfortunately the hood was doing one hell of a job obscuring it.

"It is you, isn't it, Connor?" she cocked her head forward for his attention.

"You are The Eyes, Tsipporah, so there really is no need for secrecy."

"Well, damn. You make it sound like I'm an object…" she pouted.

"Not an object, but it is the role you have been chosen to fulfill as I do in the Brotherhood. We are all still human in the end. One can never be stripped of their humanity to be called a mere 'object'."

"Heh. Alright, _oh wise one_. I see you still have a hard time with sarcasm, but it is nice to see you and everyone again. Kateri is looking as charming as ever, Achilles is still a dick—_Oh_! Don't tell him I said that…" she crossed her ankles as the hooded man continued to face her general direction. It seemed that he wasn't interested in answering her, but studying her features and how they've changed. Certainly, her hair has grown fuller and was more abundant with loose curls put back. She appeared more toned in than she was before (despite her working clothes making it a bit hard to tell) and her neck was shapely and slender as a swan's. Connor leaned back in his seat to study her eyes, which still had some doubt left, but little to be found.

"…Are you checking me out, Connor?" the young woman raised a brow in suspicion. He didn't respond as much as a word, but turned his attention to the carriage window. The girl stifled a giggle, sensing that he most likely was and said nothing back. After a while, she watched out the window as homestead come into view, but couldn't contain the temptation to pull back the hood from his face. _How does his face look now_? He instantly grabbed her wrist as she was inches away from the seams and thread, disappointing her immensely.

"Okay! Okay! Don't break my arm! I just wanted to see your face," she whined, wrenching her hand away. _Jesus_, he's gotten stronger than before. The novice was surprised to see he didn't even leave a mark on her; his hands were bigger than before, too. Their hands were almost the same size, but even that completely changed. _Maybe a lacrosse rematch is out of the question…_

"You need only to ask. It is rude to assume that you have my permission to do so yourself."

"_Alright_. I guess Achilles knocked more than just training into you," she kicked the door open as they stopped by the manor, "Now you sound like an old man, too."

"And you still spew out the words of a child. In all your years of training—"

"Shut the fuck up, Connor, "she stomped to the patio, "I am a _woman_ now, so don't go saying that I _didn't _grow up. My mentor had me kill a few Templars before coming back to you and I have the scars to prove it!" _Actually, it was just one Templar who fights like a goddamn army, but no way was she going to correct that last statement._

Angie walked out the front door when she heard the commotion and swung the door back, running up to her friend—only to receive a harsh punch to the rib. "_You idiot_! I could've been caught by the Templars and you let me go alone!" Angie returned a blow that knocked her companion on her back, putting her foot on her victim's sternum for good measure.

"You can't be an assassin's observer if you can't survive or fight alone. Get over it." She stepped back and turned her attention to Connor, who was watching the scene unfold between the disputing women and stepped forward. "Enough, "he pushed the feisty blonde away, "If you two are disputing about something, it cannot be dealt with like this." Angie only sucked her teeth and Tsipporah got to her feet, dusting herself off. She then realized that their fighting paralleled that of Godfrey and Terry and chucked a laugh at the thought.

"And what is so funny?" Connor demanded.

"Nothing. This is Emily A. Burke, but I just call her 'Angie'," she pointed out, "She's my accomplice and works for the Brotherhood, too." She cupped her hand at the side of her face and leaned to whisper, "_Lock your room at night because she will hump anything with a heart-beat_... Oh yeah! I want to go say 'hi' to Faulkner, now! I didn't the first time coming because I went to find you, but you're not gonna show me your fa—"

The jubilant native-woman tackled her side, happy to see her friend and her cousin together again. The novice swore that before the day was over, she would have two broken ribs. She scrambled herself out the embrace this time, but Alice was persistent. Connor shook his head at his beloved cousin's expense, drawing back his hood in the mix of the confusion. The blonde was smirking to see such sport, but froze at the man's profile, as did her novice friend.

"_Damn_!" the two women exclaimed and straightened out.

"Nice to see you back in one piece, Connor," Alice smiled brightly, but the other two girls were _petrified_. Tsipporah was taken aback on a completely different level seeing how handsome her old traveling comrade has become; all the air gusted out of her chest and mused on how puberty was so kind to him. Of course, Angie winked at her girl-friend and gave a "thumbs-up" as she walked back to the patio, snapping the girl out of her trance and shrugged.

"Are you alright, my friend?" Alice patted her back and she nodded vigorously.

"Yes. Yep. Yeah…" she chucked a wry laugh, "I'm good. Real good…" she looked down, massaging the bridge of her nose as they all went inside, mumbling something about how she was going to have a mini-heart-attack. Unfortunately, Angie caught her words, which can only mean that she would bother her friend about it later. The maid promptly came up to the group, giving them a notice that the old man was taking a nap for the day and Connor looked to ground then to the maid and nodded. He seemed a bit crestfallen as if he heard that the old man had a terminal disease and had gotten worse… or something.

"You seem a bit down, hearing that he's taking a nap."

"Time has taken a little more breath from him each year."

"Pfft. You make it sound so depressing. He's gonna be fine."

"How are you so sure?" Connor wrinkled his face and bore his eyes into those of the observer. She only shrugged and gave a half smile.

"He has you and me, the neighbors, the years—he's fine." She timidly turned to the stairs to climb them, but her shoulder was firmly held back. "Yeah, 'sup sexy?" she already knew who was gripping her shoulder, but apparently he stiffened at her words briefly. His cousin left out the door, holding a tight smile and gritting her teeth. "How long shall your stay be this time?"

"You're concerned about how long I'm staying? Heh… as long as it takes you to wipe out the Templars and their Grand Master I guess. I mean, I wanna make the most of time here and, uh, some of them think I should sit back and collect dust…"

"You've seen them?" he took her by the shoulders and had her face him. The novice brushed his hands off, boasting about how he should never grab a woman like that and she would go to jail if he did it ever again. Connor shook his head and waved his hand indifferently, knowing full well that his traveling companion is of no help when she gets this melodramatic. She only lifted her chin and stomped up the stairs to her room where her blonde associate waited. He wanted to really say how glad he was to see her again, but how would she act; moody and uncaring? He furrowed his brows at the sound of her slamming the door. This girl never changed since the day they met and wasn't too sure if this was a good or bad thing. He gave the stairwell one last look and went to find his cousin.

* * *

Tsipporah feared that she would foam at the mouth before her lips formed words looking upon her old friend's matured appearance. He certainly did look like his father, but in a whole unique mix. She leaned against her door inside her room, placing her hand over her chest, mentally taking in his new form. The blonde friend sat on the refurnished canopy bed and sharpened her blades, and checked her rifle in counting shots. Once she confirmed that her things were in order, she turned to the distressed novice, but her coming fiddling was beat.

"Don't you _dare_ say anything." She pointed an accusing finger. Angie raised her hands innocently as if that was not the subject put for debate.

"Whatever do you mean?" she pouted, "I was just going to say how extremely _hot _your friend became. Do you know what the best part about being _you_ is?"

"Seriously, don't say anything—"

"You get to travel with _that_ a bit longer!" she squealed and flopped on the mattress. Tsipporah's eyes were reduced to slits, knowing what the blonde was going to say next…

"How can you travel with him for so long and not even think about—"

"About what?" she approached menacingly.

"Sleeping with him! Come on, I know you were just thinking about it just now when he took off his hood. Tell me your ovaries didn't combust when he said your name after all this time!"

"Angie! What the fuck… I'm just a little shaken up today, okay. I saw the Templar Grand—"

Angie kept this up by even singing inappropriate songs for good measure: "Shut and sleep with me; come on, why don't you sleep with me? Shut up and—"

"_You shut up_. I'm trying to tell you what happened and you're suggesting I go all McNasty and McMake-Lovin' to the guy I watch who's supposed to save the colonies? Go fuck yourself because I came back on a serious note and I need to help my friends if need be. Now… you'll listen to my report."

Angie wanted to physically applaud her accomplice right about now. She did not felt the least bit insulted because she, too, can be a bit childish sometimes, but her friend finally pulled a stern card that raised her ear. Of course, she won't take back her suggestions, but listened to the report, anyway. As she suspected, the Templars knew of their comeback. The blonde has been talking about this for several months into training that what would be worse than the Templars breaching the sanctuary and finding the Pieces of Eden combined would be them obtaining the observers—or known as The Eyes of First Civilization. Not much is known about the Eyes, but to the Brotherhood's knowledge they are the "map-quest" to finding the lost Pieces and that they have a strange ability to tear through time; and most observers were females throughout history, descending from Eve of Eden herself.

"So now they have a reason to be scared of the Brotherhood?" the blonde bounced.

"Nope," the other replied, deadpanned, "Haytham didn't piss his pants in my presence, just the opposite. They think I'll side with them."

"A bunch of crumpet-eating douchebags? I don't think so…" she packed her weapons on her sides, lying on her back with her hands behind her head.

"Either way, we just wait for them to take a knife to the throat and we go home. I guess…"

"That's all, Sipsy?" Tsipporah didn't answer. She wished for some batshit-crazy adventure to come into her life ever since she was a child. Well, it came and she can't wait to see what would happen next, but didn't think it would be written with so much blood on the side. It bothered her so, but these dark, historical events were going to happen no matter what she did. The British are pushed back by the Americans, the Crown loses his head over it all, Marie Antoinette gets beheaded—she knew what would happen. She'll have to watch the whole thing unfold before her unlike how they did in documentaries, but she'll be with Connor…

_ Connor Kenway_. She rushed to the window and saw him talking to Alice, or rather Kateri. Whatever they were talking about, it was getting Connor ecstatic. Her wedding plans maybe? She is supposed to be married to that chubby kid soon, but he probably isn't chubby anymore. The novice watched from her window as the assassin moved with a somewhat different swag than he did years ago. He moved with a different sort of confidence, pride, and grace, but held the aura of a predator. It wasn't just the pubescent shape he's grown into. _Something of that air drew her to him_…

"You're thinking of having him fall down your rabbit hole and take you to Wonderland yet, babe?" Angie shut out the girl's thoughts and only answered with pursed lips, and a twitching eye.

"Alright, I'll leave you to your creepin'—"

"Go fuck yourself, Angie." She gave a small smile at the comment since it did look as if she was a creepy stalker. _Nope_. It was just observing; just doing her job.

* * *

"So you did meet with Surry? What did she say about the missing slaves?" Alice pressed.

"They are in a safe haven were the secret tunnels are, but it is not the most suitable for living quarters. She will have them moved away from the colonies by another who is my 'brother' from New Orleans. Surry claims that she knows of another way to keep them safe." His cousin scratched her chin and stared blankly.

"Why not offer for them to live here?"

"Make no mistake, cousin, I offered the open space of homestead, but Surry did not want me to shoulder such a responsibility and would not say why." Alice found this a bit strange. Why wouldn't the escaping slaves be offered to live in this open air; a beautiful, peaceful haven? Everyone and anyone in need were welcome to settle here, but her cousin's face said it all.

"It would difficult because it would be unwise to move so many all at once—"

"And that we have _two_ observers here…" Alice concluded. She was no fool and Connor wouldn't lie, but they already had their hands full taking care of their community and should focus on raising money, and making sure nothing happens to their watchers. It was troublesome, knowing how spirited they are, but they have to keep them around because they had no choice. The native woman, on the other hand, knew her 'brother' too well.

"That girl is still childish," he rolled his eyes at the past events.

"(That girl intrigues you and I know full well that you wanted to embrace her _warmly_ once you saw her 'child bearing hips', her star-written eyes, and her full lips.)" She made a fish face at him and he covered her face with his hand.

"You do not know me as well as you think, Alice. I have always imagined a warm reunion, but not the ones you would picture."After trying to get her face back to no avail, she bit his palm comically and finally released her.

"That's what my love said when we turned thirteen, but then he confessed that once we marry our wedding night is going to be full of—"

"I believe that is something to keep between you and your husband."

"I suppose. Do you plan to ever have woman of your own, cousin?" Alice wondered for a long time if she was going to have nieces and nephews anytime soon as much as she promised Connor that he would. He did say that once the land was free of Templar control, he would find himself one and settle into the quietness as he raised a family. However, for now it seemed that he was more concerned about the village's safety, Achilles' health, and ensuring everyone's freedom. He was more selfless than anyone she's ever known and hoped that love would come to him; to bring him peace in the midst of this chaos because he well deserved it. She considered the strong possibility that he has.

"I think you've already found a woman. Shame you still think her a _girl_." She raised a sly brow. He thinned his lips at the mention, already knowing who she spoke of and waved his hand, dismissing the subject and walked off to scout the area instead. Alice wouldn't leave him alone of it, though. As he disappeared into the woods, she shouted things like:

"(Perhaps you could make her your woman! You always said you wanted someone different!)" Or "(Tsipporah told me once she achieves her dreams, she would marry, too! Why do you not ask her if you are a candidate?)" And made sure he wouldn't forget, "(She is only one I know to match you in tewaarathon, but I believe she wants to play an even more fun game to play.)" He leapt to the trees, thankful for once that no one in Homestead knew of their native tongue.

* * *

Achilles woke up in the evening and was assisted out of his bed by the nurse-maid to the kitchen where dinner was going to be served. Tsipporah helped set the table as she did long ago and Angie help set the food rations on each set of china. The maid nodded in thanks, despite her telling of how she could do such an activity by herself. She brushed her fringes from her face and helped Achilles to his seat. The novice stretched and went to see if Connor was still in the basement, training as always. Now that she thought about it, he spoke not a word since he came back from hunting along the Frontier. Regrettably, she knew why, too. The words were a bit mixed, but could have sworn that Kateri mixed some words like "make her your woman" with her name and something of "fun game to play". She snorted at how Connor must have felt after hearing such things. Perhaps she spent on hell of a time with Angie in just a few short hours.

"Connor? You down here?" her voice echoed and she ventured down the stairs.

"Yes, of course," he replied, sounding out of breath. She figured, so she brought a glass of water down just in case and handed it to him.

"You sound tired as hell, hero. Drink this—"

"I'm fine."

"_Drink the water, damn you_." He gave her a sour look before taking the drink in and handing the glass back. "Dinner's ready, so come up. Oh, yeah," she stopped in mid-stride on the stairs, "ask Kateri when she plans on making her wedding dress. I want to help."

"I shall inform her, but I am not sure if her mother with permit your aid."

"Her mom's racist, isn't she?" she completely turned, hearing this excuse before.

"She does not welcome outsiders as much as the others have." The novice looked down and thought about his statement.

"She hates you, too, doesn't she?" she felt some strange guilt rising in her for asking, but her comrade did not seem to mind at all. He nodded and passed her up the stairs to the dining room. _'Why do I always end up pushing the wrong buttons of everyone I know? I called Kateri's fiancée 'fat', I called Angie a whore for the fifth time today, and now I've upset Connor, too, I just know it!'_ she sucked her teeth at how's she's been acting all day and couldn't help it.

At least dinner time was kept nice and quiet save for the workers outside moving about to go back to their cabins. Those noises were greatly missed, but for everyone else it was a daily occurrence and nothing special. Angie kept elbowing her novice party-member, giving a Cheshire-grin every time she looked at her. This started to get on her nerves. "Something you wanna share, Emily Burke?" she never spoke her real name unless she was really pissed and wanted to be left alone, but that was the best part for her.

"Geez, with your crappy attitude, maybe I should introduce you to McNasty and McMake-Lovin'. Maybe then you'll meet Dr. Feelsgood." Her jokes were terrible; even more so at the dinner table. Thank goodness no one else knew of her estranged 'relieving yourself' jokes. _They were horrible_.

"Not now, Angie," she really wanted to eat peacefully, "I. Want. To. Eat. In. Peace."

"Alright, babe; it just looks like you heard something you really didn't want to hear as all." She's right, but hell would have to freeze over before she admitted that. She would, but not here—not while _he's _here. And was the food always this heavy to swallow?

"Why don't you tell me how Boston was today?" Achilles asked before eating.

"I met the Templar Grand Master." Connor's fork seemed to skid off the meat and tear it open. "He says he didn't plan on killing me, but I don't think he cares for where my loyalties lie either."

"That sounds like Haytham, indeed. He will do anything for control as is his duty."

"Sounds like a hot date you two had." Angie joked, but Connor thought no humor came of this news. He abruptly stood from his seat, startling the novice.

"Why have you not said anything earlier?" his eyes bore into Tsipporah's angrily.

"Sorry, I figured it wasn't too important. I mean, because I'm the Eyes, I guess he wasn't planning to hurt me—"

"You 'guessed' that he would bring you no harm? And what if decided that he should? This man is a cold-blooded murderer and will stop at nothing until all who are in his way are destroyed. How could you be so naïve? You should know better than to just allow him to approach you so casually." On second thought, she wanted to spit the meat piece at his face out of spite. He made it sound like she let herself be taken in by Templars. She had an idea of how serious he was since he was standing and directing his anger towards her. Standing in such a way, as she was told, was how some natives let others know that they were standing their ground in an argument or wanted to fight. The novice shoved her chair back and stood, too.

"Do not take your quarrels to the dinner table, you fools," the old man was peeved, but the two still stood aggressively.

"'_Allowed him_'? _Excuse me_? Last I checked, I think I '_allowed_' myself to end up in the 18th century, '_allow_' myself to help you out as Clan Mother wanted, and '_allow_' myself sacrifice the meat on my bones so you'd still have your intestines under your skin where it belongs. If you think putting myself in danger for your sake is 'naïve', then I should wear as a badge of honor because I am well needed by the First Civilization and all I have to do is write out to Juno whether you saved the world or doomed us all. Course, I'm not sure how Haytham is a cold-blooded killer when, in fact, that's your job, too. So… _fuck you_." The novice took her plate off the table, turning her heel to eat outside. The old man acted indifferently and continued eating while Angie gave a dramatic applause to the performance.

Connor wasn't going to let the argument stop there. _No_. He wanted to get his point across, too. He had always respected the women of his village and those of colonies no matter who they were, but this one was the most difficult by far. She would always point fingers, try to match or even overpower somehow, and always initiate a heated debate. He didn't understand her at all and could never figure out why everyone else can. After getting past the patio, he used his tracking skills to find the girl. There were crumbs of food left alongside the road and eventually lead to the edge of the riverbank.

"So you were planning on following me?" a dark figure sat in the trees above him, swinging her feet. He gave a dry sigh before climbing to her and perching himself on the same branch.

"You are as troublesome as you were before. How is it that you complicate yourself when you are with me and no one else?" he pressed for answers, sensing that she wasn't even moody at all, but playing games with him. The watcher knew he was no simpleton and was _way_ past the whole act, but also knew it wasn't very rewarding to toy with him. That was the issue however; toying with him kept him safe from her.

"I'm supposed to just do my job—just watch you and that's all. I'd like to be friends, too, but the Eyes of the First Civilization are… 'only going to doom the one whom they watch, accelerating negative outcomes', so there you have it. I can only be here, but develop no close relationship." She waited for a lecture or an 'I don't believe that shit' speech and kept her gaze to the riverbank below her. After what seemed like forever, she felt a large hand grip hers and she turned to Connor with the look of child who just caught stealing from the cookie jar. For someone who's taken many lives, his hands were smooth and soft.

"Nope. Nope. Nope. This is exactly what Juno warned me about," she fidgeted, "I should've just kept my mouth shut." She really wanted to kick herself for picking a place to hide like a tree under the open, starry sky: the most ideal, romantic place to be.

"So it was not the old man but the spirits who convinced you to keep to yourself. Was this also your own personal intention?"

"Well… no." it was way too late to repress her emotions now, "Actually, I've never had any friends that were Native American—not that I know of, but that's not the point… making friends during wartime seemed too depressing. I mean, a lot of young people died in the American Revolution and I don't want… well…" She's read on these people ever since she was a child, so she knew what was to come for them. She knew the village was not safe during these times and will never be. The world's most brutal genocides she's ever read of—The Hebrew children of Moses' time, The Indians, The Holocaust, lynching of African slaves… the list goes on. The British took bits and pieces of their home, colonists wanted liberty and freedom from them—they practically started a war in someone else's house! And all the while, the Templars are moving pieces as the Brotherhood are. Worst part is that she has to watch all of it unfold. She knew deep down that all of this would be bought or stolen by redcoats and her friends would burn to ashes. She brought her knees up and bowed her head, feeling hot tears in her eyes at the horrid thought, but Connor would not leave.

"(Go away. I want to be alone.)" Her Mohawk speak slipped out and Connor wasn't surprised, but felt a little proud that she somehow learned to speak it; and so clean, too.

"(You are tasked to watch me and so you shall, but _I _will be one protecting you.)"

"(You are a fool.)" She scoffed, trying to shake his hand off hers to no avail, "(You're still stubborn as you were before and _you_ say that I am the childish one, you—)"

"(You _are_ the childish one, Tsipporah, to think that you can achieve anything by yourself.)" He then pulled her in and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, but she resisted and was eventually given into his half-embrace. Her head was under his chin and she wasn't too sure if she should push him away or wrap or wrap her arms around him. Her eye twitched thinking about the latter, but mechanically did it anyway.

"Just know that you start dying on me, I'll kill you." She said sarcastically. She wasn't one to get sentimental around her guy friends and Connor chuckled. "I would like to see you try," he responded in a low voice and his companion yawned, relaxing her head against his chest…

* * *

When the morning rays shined down through the bedroom windows, a girl of blonde hair poked at her friend's cheek, preparing her for an episode of hell on earth as did the native woman beside her. They waited and watched as the novice wrinkled her nose to the kiss of sunlight, blinking her eyes and letting her vision become clear. Tsipporah stretched and curled, turning to her sides, now that she was fully awake. Once her head faced her right, she shrieked and rolled off the mattress. The two girls bawled with laughter.

"Agh! I fell off the bed because of you! I hope you're happy, Angie. I should mutilate you!" she spat her words through her unruly hair hanging in her face, looking like the Grudge. Alice sat up in front of her with a smile that could threaten to break her face.

"I saw you being carried into the house by Connor. Angie told me everything."

"What the fuck is '_everything_'?" she pointed her whole crestfallen expression to her blonde companion.

"I saw that hug he gave you and you sleeping against his _pectorals_." That last word sounded like a song and as usual, the novice wasn't too happy about it. She had told him everything that Juno told her not to do she fell into his arms like a lovesick schoolgirl; how embarrassing. Shame she couldn't turn back time because she feared for the worse to come out of this course of action.

"Man, you look down, babe." Angie poked her nose in, "Maybe you should cuddle with your man again." Tsipporah brushed off the subject and Alice scrambled to the window like dog seeing the mailman. She started to squeal with joy, but then it died down.

"Hey, Alice? What's up?" Angie asked, but Alice only pointed as her husband-to-be came down the dirt road as if he was chased by something. Tsipporah peeked from a pane and instantly recognized who it was despite him appearing different otherwise. His hair was longer and his face was written with age, but the weight was lost and he was a more decorated man with eagle feathers in his hair, detailed bead-work, and patterned animal skins for apparel.

"Kanen'tó:kon!" the novice jumped and scurried out the door and down the stairs. She almost tripped a few steps down, but came to the door in time for it to knock and the other girls followed. Alice should have been happy, overjoyed even to see him again so soon, but something felt out of sorts. The knocking on the door became more urgent and the bride-to-be opened up to see her loved one riddled with panic.

"Kanen'tó:kon, my love? What is the matter?" she reached out to hold his face.

"Please, Kateri, I must speak to Ratonhnhaké:ton at once. Something has happened—"and just on cue, Connor and his mentor emerged from the basement and came to the door. Connor greeted his childhood friend warmly, but then stopped to find his face filled with worry.

"What brings you here? Is the village alright?"

"The village is safe… for now." Alice thinned her lips as if the world was going to end. The observers looked at each other, as if they saw this coming at some point. Connor furrowed his brows at the statement. "What do you mean? What has happened?"

"Men came, claiming we had to leave. They said that the land was being sold and that the Confederacy had consented. We sent an envoy, but they would not listen…" as Kanen'tó:kon explained the situation Connor grew restless, and Kateri, too, was shaking in anxiety. Their home was being sold? After all these years of protecting the land from invaders, the Iroquois would just give it all up?

"You must refuse!" Connor was furious and Kanen'tó:kon agreed, but reminded him of how they cannot oppose the sachem, which is true. Kateri swore to herself in her native tongue, and Angie told her friend that she'll be upstairs. However, Tsipporah stayed to watch the scene unfold.

"Do you have a name?" Connor pressed, "Do you know who is responsible?"

"He is called William Johnson." '_Bingo'_, the novice thought, '_met that son of a bitch_.'

"Where is Johnson now?"

"In Boston, making preparations for the sale."

"Sale? This is theft!"Achilles stepped in before his student got in over his head to kill, but what was he to do? He made a promise to his people to ensure that nothing would happen to them. Kateri was no different as was her husband-to-be. They grew up together on the patch of land and woodlands—the whole Frontier. The old man lowered his head and made up his mind, allowing Connor to seek out assistance. He directed him to find Sam Adams in Boston as he may help him seek out his target. The observer, of course, didn't want her role go to waste and collect dust.

"I'm going with you, Connor." Well, ride or die. He said nothing, but nodded his head to her and did something that was utterly out of the blue. Kanen'tó:kon let him take his hatchet and he chopped it into the manor's front post. The novice went agape. What did he just do? Even Achilles wondered what the hell he just did and he explained that this was their imprint for starting war—to have a hatchet placed on their post and when the task of war was finished, it would be removed. There wasn't any time to change into her assassin attire, but she bolted with her carry-on basket that contained her clothes. The old man grumbled at how Connor could have used a tree and not pin his 'war' on his manor.

"So find Samuel Adams and stop William Johnson from buying your land. Is that all, boss? Oh yeah, good to see you again, Kanen'tó:kon, even if this reunion is not under better circumstances." She really did wish that they met again being chased by a bear or something. "Likewise. It is good to see you again, but you must hurry; there is no time for leisure." Tsipporah went down the lane to the carriage, but Connor beckoned her to dress for the occasion.

"I'll dress in the carriage! It'll only take a minute. I'll open the door when I'm done." She scrambled into the carriage and recruit was on standby, awaiting Connor's orders. Alice and Angie promised that they would prepare at once and be ready whenever he needed them. Kanen'tó:kon patted his back, mentioning that he, too, will be on standby if Connor needed to know how to get to Johnson. He acknowledged the help and walked off to the carriage, where the watcher promptly opened the door, "Hop in, Connor!" she swung the door with her bare feet. "C'mon, I can't let my friends lose their home." Still childish it seems, but more urgent. The assassin wished his friend luck before getting in, signaling for his recruit to lead them to Boston.

"So the war's started." She mumbled.

"You are not thinking of running are you?"

"I was thinking about running from the beginning, until I took a sword to the calf muscle."

"That was my fault, I—"

"Oh my God, it's not your fault! It was my decision to take a bullet for you and I don't regret it because you grew into an amazing, dependable person, so… stop acting like every bad thing that happens is because of you." Her words proved true, but for how long? The novice knew that deep down that her friends are going to be outnumbered one day, but Connor seemed to be of a different case. Nothing was enough with him and he would go head-first into a fight with ever looking back, as Alice described it. Looking at him now, he gazed out the window with a fire in his eyes. He's changed from the early days when they were young, but has known this all along: _a war was coming and all of them were to fight to the death_.

* * *

****

The war is here, which means there's going to be more "ride or die" leading to "let's have friendship-turned into romance as the war escalates".

**So I have to say that I'm so grateful for the views and the followers. I know the holidays are coming up, so once I get to a winter scenario, I'll bring up a holiday treat. I mean, the soldiers fought even through Christmas and New Year's, so there has to be some form of holiday cheer. **

**Thanks for the reviews and views, everyone! Special Thanks to new followers! :D**


	8. Chapter 8: Pandemonium

"The natural liberty of man is to be free from any superior power on Earth, and not to be under the will or legislative authority of man, but only to have the law of nature for his rule."** – Samuel Adams, 1772**

* * *

The streets of Boston were still as boisterous as ever—the people rioted of their rights and liberties, redcoats banging down doors of colonists who owe rent, and more of them marching down the street who still believed that they had the upper hand. Truly, the bloody episodes were depicted accurately in the paintings and drawings that were at the art museum. Unfortunately, the artists of the time wouldn't be the only artists watching the curtains of the performance pull back until the revolution was over. Once the two of the Brotherhood had their carriage parked, they would weave themselves through the crowd in search of Samuel Adams—one of the Sons of Liberty.

Tsipporah wanted badly to just get it over with because she hated getting mixed up in rioting. Breaking up a two people, sure, but a whole mob? Connor acted apathetically, keeping his head forward and not even seeing if his observer was following close behind. However, when the opportunity presented itself, she'd feed the stray dogs and pet the loose pigs that were out. Sure, it slowed her down, but she couldn't resist. Whoever sees a huge pig passing down the alleyway in the morning, anyway?

"If you keep this up, we will never find Sam Adams." Connor stood, refusing to turn himself. His watcher gave a raspberry noise and stuck out her tongue.

"Is there something wrong with being nice to animals, tree-hugger?"

"We have no time for levity," he turned to her, "if I do not find Sam Adams, we will not be able to locate William Johnson; and if that happens—"

"Calm your tits, bro; he's at the port down there talking to some other bros." Tsipporah pointed through the bustling groups and to the docks where Sam Adams was speaking to some other men. It looked as though they were in the middle of a debate, but they had no time to worry about that. Connor nodded and took the observer's arm, hoping that she won't stop for another wandering hog. After some more pushing and shoving, the two were finally behind Samuel and gave a pat to get his attention.

"Oh, Connor," he cleared his throat, "and Ms. Martel! It is nice to see your face around these parts!" he sounded pretty happy to see her again and the novice couldn't help but feel pretty ecstatic as well—having a famous, historical figure very glad to see her once more. Sam had their attention, dismissing himself from the gentlemen he was speaking to and proceeded to walk down a less-busy lane with the two. Connor apologized for interrupting his conversation if it was something essential, but Sam didn't seem to mind, saying that it was turning into a heated debate anyway.

"So, Ms. Martel?" Sam began, but the novice raised her palm, correcting him.

"_Tsipporah_, please."

"Tsipporah. Well, I haven't the time to see you since the incident on King's street. How is your leg, by the way? I recall sending Surry to your aide. Did it heal nicely?"

"Yes, but nothing too serious, as you can see. However, that's not why we're here."

"Really?" he rubbed his chin and looked at Connor. After a beckon to find William Johnson, Samuel agreed to help and told them to come to a meeting with him, but the assassin brought up Surry. According to Connor, she was a slave to Sam, but that wasn't the case. Then again, no one in the colonies is truly free and once they can free themselves, perhaps they can do the same for the slaves. The novice sucked her teeth and not in a very friendly fashion either. Her style of it was longer than others.

"Haha… the redcoat-guys make it seem like they 'discovered' this land…" she scoffed, "they didn't discover it; they annexed it. Then they took some Africans and thought they assumed that they could be 'roommates' with the natives—who in fact lived here to begin with. Pfft."

"You are very much open about the situation, Tsipporah," Sam added, "Perhaps a position in the Sons of Liberty could—"

"That's nice Sam, but I'm with this guy," she poked Connor, "and no one else. Wherever _he_ goes, _I_ go. If decides that he wants to ram a hole in a fortress, I'll be lighting canons for him. If he decides to dive into fire… I'll test the temperature first before following that up, _um_…" That last rejoinder formed a smile on Sam's face, whether it is for laughs or admiration. He pointed out, however how the colonists are here against their will or how they have no other choice. Right as he said it, a rambunctious scene took place. A middle aged man was arguing with a British official from his window and there were redcoats on standby. Seemed as though the British official was demanding that the colonist would leave due to his inability to pay rent, but the man refused pretty stubbornly:

"Hey, it's my home no matter what you thieves called 'taxmen' say! If the gumps in Parliament who want my property, you tell them to sail across the pond and take it themselves!" the colonist spat.

"It's not open for discussion," the taxmen argued, "Now open this door or these men will break it down!" he jumped back the last second when the colonist took a used up bucket and threw out some piss and crap. "Bollocks! We're comin' in!" the soldiers shouted. The novice snorted at the action, but quickly straightened up when she realized the men were breaking in. They butted the windows and banged their own weight against the dorr. This was slightly averted, though, when the middle-aged man kicked his door open and tackled the taxman. Tsipporah gave a "laugh out loud" before deciding to shut up.

"I trust the mounting evidence is proof enough," Sam added to his earlier argument. That colonist there, like many living in Boston were no freer than Surry. The novice was itching to get her elbow-blades out because that man had no chance against men with rifles, but _man_, can he bar-fight.

"Continue on. I shall meet you at our destination." Connor readied himself and barged into the fight. He drew out his tomahawk and gave one soldier a blow to the chest as a start, then turned to impale his weapon into the throat of the other. The watcher stared aghast at how brutal the killings were. She was no stranger to kills, but he surely allowed just about four liters of blood escape the body very violently. Although, she had no choice but to join in the fight to the death, so she did a lunging "FALCON PUNCH" to break open a skull. The novice ducked and weaved, remembering all that her instructor taught her. It wasn't until they were done did she recall that using elbow blades was very similar to boxing or MMA.

Once the noise stopped, bodies were splayed on the floor. The novice was a bit dissatisfied with the fact that she managed to get struck at her brow-line; not that she would complain, but a normal girl would. The colonist gave himself a minute to take in air and thank the two for assisting him. He was badly drenched in sweat in blood, whether it is of the enemies or him, and spat on the bodies in disgust as he would never give up his property. He would take the duo out to drink, but said he had somewhere else to go—the novice took his hand before he turned to leave, smiling at him.

"My name's Tsipporah Martel, by the way." She shook his hand.

"I could introduce myself, but like I said—"

"I know. _Vous aller en avant, monsieur_." She cocked her head to the front, gesturing him to leave if needed be. He gave a chuckle and took her hand, planted a kiss on it, and then waving off to the hooded assassin, hoping to see the two again. Sure, he was drenched in blood, but he was a gentleman after all. Tsipporah turned to Connor, who shrugged his shoulders and went ahead to find Samuel.

"What?" she pressed, "The guy's nice… Oh, sorry that French happens to be a language I grew up with down south, Connor." That wasn't even the issue, though. There she goes again; flirting with strangers. Actually, he was a bit curious about her heritage now that she has always been very respecting of him, but always assumed that the observer was African-mixed. As she came to his side, he looked to her as they walked.

"Pardon me for asking, but…" he wasn't sure how to put it, "What _is_ your heritage?"

"Huh?" she stretched, "I'm Haitian… or I think they call it _Ayiti_ around this time, yeah. Why?"

"As I have said countless times before, I know nothing of you."

"Ok… I was born and raised in Tortuga until I was five. Not like how it is now with the piracy, but at my time it's peaceful and still beautiful as ever."

"Are you not American?"

"I am. Just not too proud of the status, though. I lived in the Florida area until I was eighteen, trained for the Brotherhood since I met you, learned to paint since I was two, and now I go to a school in New York to do it. _So_ happy to be in a state where seasons honestly change. I'll tell you one thing, though. No matter what people say, there is no black and white with the _arts_." The girl really wanted to stop talking because this is not a befitting place to have a conversation. She waved her hands, stating that maybe they should have this talk for another time. Connor didn't seem to mind, thinking that the small talk was enough to hear. _So she was Caribbean like his old mentor; that explains the attitude_. Once they came through a few more loops and turns, they came into a bar where Samuel Adams and a few gentlemen sat. The novice looked about.

"I don't think I should be here unless I'm twenty-one or some shit."

"Do you think now's the time to discuss that?" Connor asked rudely, but the novice scoffed back and Sam acknowledged their entrance.

"Connor! Tsipporah! I'd like you to meet some like-minded friends. The owner of this fine establishment, William Molineux and the manager and chef of his new venture, Stephane Chapeau." Of course it was the man they've seen before coming here. _What are the odds_? The colonist from before had just shared the tale of how the two assisted him in fighting off a taxman and with that story in mind, Molineux let out his two cents, imploring Sam that they should do something about the tax collectors becoming forceful on citizens. Samuel agreed that they should raise a banner upon this situation and Chapeau proposed that since the people of Boston were boycotting tea shipments from the British, thus their attention should be turned there.

"William Johnson is smuggling the tea off the ships—one of his men tried to sell me this," Molineux presented a full bag of tea to the group, but the two of the Brotherhood jumped at the mention of William Johnson.

"Where is he now?" Connor asked, but Molineux claimed to have never met the man and Adams asked why he was seeking him out. Simply put, he told them that he was going to purchase the land that belongs to his people without their consent and must be dealt with. The novice added that she couldn't bear to see her hospitable friends be thrown out of their own home. That said, Sam concluded that the money received from having the smuggled tea purchased is most likely being used to buy the property, so he suggested that the only way to stop the smugglers is to put a major dent in supply and shipment.

"So we're gonna stop his men from passing to the left. Gotcha," Tsipporah was already waiting at the door, "Come on! Time to tea bag some tea bags!" the two left with the proposal in mind and right on cue were some men carrying some cargo crates with the English flag stamped on the side. They were scattered about the bustling streets, but Connor used his keen senses to locate them before approaching them. Once all was in his range, he began walking. The first had the novice laughing to herself. Connor bumped the shoulder of a man carrying a crate and simply said passively, "Pardon me." The man ran off angrily and the watcher rewarded the assassin with a dramatic slow clap.

"That's one. A lot more to go—twenty more, possibly." She nodded off and turned in time to trip another smuggler who went face-first into the dirt. This was almost like the time her and Angie were in middle school thwarting preppy cheerleaders in elementary school. Good times. _Good times_. Once they were done on the streets, they pave the way to the docks where the barrels of gunpowder were sure to be quite useful. The novice didn't like this one bit, though. Acrophobia—conquered. Achluophobia—conquered. Pyrophobia—working on it still. How the hell did she end up working on canons and firearms is still a mystery to her.

"There," Connor pointed to the pillars of tea-crates, "We will have to dispose of them."

"I don't carry guns, Connor…" she admitted shamefully, "I have some detonators, though." She pulled one out, which was an early version of a grenade. After winding it a few times, it was tossed to the crates and the novice gestured them both to get on the ground. Once it made impact, fire spiraled in every direction, spewing wood parts and the aroma of burnt tea. _Wonderful_. Despite her fear, the observer had always wanted to do that… maybe walk away like a boss with a huge explosion in the back—no, that's overdoing it.

Once Connor rose to his feet and dusted himself off, the two split up and got to work on blowing the cargo. Bombs were planted, barrels were shot, and half the people on the dock were scared as hell as the crates combusted because of the work of ghosts or evil spirits. Funny, how it only took about ten minutes to wipe the dock clean of smuggled goods. The duo jumped onto a roof and continued their path as such to avoid the watchful eyes of Loyalists. "The only thing I can think of is that Kateri is gonna get married!" the novice squealed as she roof-hopped, "and her children will be spending their days in those beautiful woodland forests…" Yes. Kateri and Kanen'tó:kon as well the rest of the village would spend their days in peace once they stop William Johnson's tea-smuggling ring—one of the few subjects that kept her primal fears in check.

They were incognito now, so there was no need to sneak around the streets. The two followed back to the road that lead to Sam Adams—the bar. Tsipporah figured since they were just walking idly by, they could talk.

"So… pretty much Kateri and other girls—I'll say no names—are getting married in your village."

"Yes. It is the one thing she never tires of speaking about."

"Good for her. The one thing we share in common. Unlike Angie, I want to have a family when I'm older." Connor cleared his throat at her words and looked away, keeping his eyes at front. "I'm not much for 'fighting-until-I-die', more like 'fight until everything's solved'. A nice big place, my boo coming back from work, me working on an art project, and my kids succeeding in life—that's rewarding." So Alice wasn't lying after all. This girl—_woman_, dreamt of the same things his cousin desired and more. Somehow, her placement of "observer" didn't seem too fitting, but she had no qualms. If she were to give up on this journey now, everything accomplished to this point would be for naught.

Tsipporah opened the doors to the bar and furrowed her brows. No one is here, save for the pans rattling behind the bartender's table. Connor went around to the noise and found that it was the kitchen and went inside, finding that it was Stephane. The novice came around to greet him warmly once more, but he was scrambling as if he'd lost something important.

"Stephane, what is wrong?" Connor asked, "Where is Sam Adams?"

"Who cares?! I've been robbed!" the Frenchman pushed the two out of his way, cursing in French as he passed. The two assassins looked at each other and went after the colonist. God knows what he's going to start as he brandished a giant kitchen knife. He stormed out into the streets, slamming the door as he did—which knocked the bejesus out of the novice.

"I think he broke my nose!" she sniffed, feeling her nasal cavity heat up quickly along with hot fluids.

"We must follow him, Tsipporah!"

"No shit, Sherlock!" she went ahead to catch up, holding her nose's bridge painfully. Out on the streets of Boston, Connor caught up with Stephane, asking him where he was going and was told that he was going to get his things back one way or another. By one way or another, he rioted through the streets and riled up the crowds, threatening the duo's notoriety level. His outward complaints spread like an infectious disease and it started up more noise than ever. She was afraid that this might turn out to be the _Boston Massacre: The Angry Chef Edition_. What was worse was that every turn, Stephane would agitate the British soldiers, Loyalists, mercenaries—notoriety levels were shooting the roof because they had to defend this guy.

"Stephane, please, stop and listen to me." Connor pleaded after clearing another handful of soldiers.

"I've listened for long enough! They come into _my_ home and take _my_ things?! I will get my revenge. The man responsible for this will pay! _His friends will pay_!"

"…" Tsipporah didn't want to pick a fight with someone out for revenge and held a huge kitchen knife—she wanted to keep her fingers on her hands. Her mother always told her to pick her battles and if she wanted to continue painting and writing, she should heed the warning. Connor looked to her as if she should say something, too. She had to politely decline like the smart-ass she is.

"I am not about to fight with no Canadian-Frenchman when he got a knife on him and ready for revenge—fuck that. He just shoved my nose in and I almost ended up looking like a damn _pug_. I'll just street sweep and swing low." She scratched her neck and continued to walk beside Stephane who went on with his rants. Connor shook his head disapprovingly, wondering where Sam Adams was because this chaos was getting on his last nerve. "Stephane, there is a way of fighting injustice, but _this_ is not it."

"Says the guy who kills with a tomahawk—most brutal weapon known to man—and fights injustice with pure violence…" Tsipporah sassed as she whipped the blood off her blades. He dismissed her comment and attempted to get out of sight.

Checking through the alleyways, he led the Stephane and Tsipporah there. "Say, Connor, I have been meaning to ask," Stephane started once they got to a quiet corner, "is she a recruit of yours?" he pointed to the black female who was holding out her elbow-blades.

"Her purpose and allegiance is confidential. Right now, we must see if there are any more men working for William Johnson, and then we must seek out Sam Adams."

"Yeah," she retorted, "I got blood in my hair, a busted brow and pieces of my nasal cavity up in my brain after fifteen minutes of walking down the lane of Boston! I wanna go back to Homestead and roll in the grass…" Stephane couldn't resist laughing at her expense. The assassin on the other hand had enough of her complaints and went on down the alleyway whether she would follow or not. The observer scrambled after the two, barking about how he was planning to leave her behind on purpose. Once they reached the other side and onto a new street, the trying trio witnessed another taxman scolding another man behind a tea-selling stand. It wasn't just any man he was barking at—he was black. Sure, it didn't matter much to the novice, but then the taxman started calling him offensive names beginning with "mongrel" and "stupid dog". As she took a moment to look back at her male companions, she saw that they, too, were furious about the mistreatment of a fellow colonist. Stephane stepped forward, wanting to rectify the problem—and by rectifying, he wanted to kill the son of a bitch.

"Connor, what do we do?" Connor took one last look at the misfortune and answered:

"We create a window." Stephane nodded and walked ahead. The novice already knew what was going to happen. The Frenchman took his blade in hand and brushed through the crowds and before the taxman could say "bollocks" the large blade was buried deep into his shoulder, taking life at a painfully slow pace. Stephane pointed fingers for him not to rob people blind by British Parliament or not, but the man claimed that he worked for William Johnson and not the Crown. Upon the mention, the hooded assassin told his fellow member to end his suffering, which he obliged to. _Man, today was a bloody day…_

The trio went for the roof-side to avoid chasing guards from that little scene. Once they were safe, they took a breather. The angry chef had his share for today of revenge, but also the Brotherhood's allegiance in place of rewarding Connor ale. He gave the female companion another kiss on the hand for having the patience to get through this misadventure of day, and she rolled her eyes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, I didn't like today too much, but it was nice having you as an aide, Stephane."

"It was no problem, mademoiselle. Connor and yourself have been a big help." Then he turned to Connor, "Should you ever need me, just call, my friend."

"Indeed, I will. I am grateful for your aide." He then nodded to Tsipporah to follow him and she obeyed, blowing a kiss to Chapeau behind her. She couldn't help but think that maybe Connor didn't like how open she was with a man she'd only met just today, but didn't look too deep into it since most Europeans—especially the French—were open to each other in embraces, powwows, and kissing each other. Connor on the other hand… Nope. He almost twisted her wrist when she wanted to his face. The novice made a noise as they descended from the rooftop.

"What is wrong?" Connor called over his shoulder. She thinned her lips and sighed.

"I could say 'don't worry about it', but you'll chew my ass out if I do, so…" she wavered, "Would you kiss or hug to greet someone?" he gave an annoyed face as an answer and the novice bit her lip. "Thought so; that's something flamboyant people do like Alice, but you're conservative as hell. Not that I'll think of you less."

"If you are done with your banter, then let us continue to find Samuel Adams."

"_Why not_? Got my face busted wide open looking for this man."

"It is only a scratch; you will live. Stop acting like a child." He said, looking and caressing the scratch on her left brow. She wrinkled her face and shoved his hand away.

"_You_ stop acting like a child. 'This isn't the way to fight injustice', but you killing guys is okay because you're the hero," she mimicked a raspberry and stuck out her tongue. The two continued in a wrenching silence, frustrated in how the day went.

* * *

The evening shroud fell on the city of Boston and the Brotherhood followers were getting antsy inside, but appeared as stoic as ever. Finally, they managed to find Samuel Adams, but the novice didn't have the energy to yell at someone at this point; all that was important now was to save the Mohawk Valley and all her friends in it. Everything, the fate of everyone, was riding on Connor—whether people knew it or not, but Tsipporah would be the one to calculate a good ending. At least at some point, they should find Samuel somewhere—_There he is, got them running all over Boston like loose hogs, that son of a bitch…_

"Nope! You better stand still, old man!" Tsipporah breathed out, fatigued, "Got me all riled up like I was going to Disneyland—No! Stay there, Molineux!" she got so fed up that she started pointing her throwing knives and Connor grabbed her wrist, staying her hand. After giving her a look, she sneered and calmed herself. The hooded man then asked what would happen now that they have disrupted the smuggling of the British tea. Molineux troll-faced, saying that they would have to wait for the signal.

"What signal?" the two assassins made an identical confused face. Then they heard:

"_This meeting can do nothing further to save the country_."

"That signal," he gestured, and then Samuel emerged from the doors glad to see the dynamic duo still in one piece. Connor wasn't too content about it, though and funny how he commanded his observer to calm down. _Hypocrite_.

"I have spent today drawn from one bit of madness to another with _nothing_ to show for it. Before I go further, I would like to know exactly what it is you intend." No simpleton, indeed. He was just as pissed as the novice, but chose to now show it with abrasiveness. Samuel explained the plan. They would go to Bradley's house to fetch the rest of the Sons of Liberty then off to Griffin's Wharf to dispose of the rest of the tea on the merchant ships. Why did this sound all familiar…? _Oh yeah…_

"This is the Boston Tea Party, isn't it?" the novice highlighted, "I didn't even eat yet, so Bradley had better have some beef jerky sitting by the fire." The men laughed save for the hooded man who just shook his head and crossed his arms as they walked on. He really did look irritated, but Tsipporah was saving her breath for the coming battles. Night crept in as time passed and the group grew as the rest of the Sons were fetched. The novice fidgeted a little as she walked, still not accustomed to the chilly nights of the North. Connor was chosen to lead the group to the docks, but Sam stopped to consider the girl.

"Are you alright, Tsipporah?" he asked.

"I can see my breath right now. Should I be worried?" her teeth were chattering, "Don't worry about me, boo-boo, I _have_ to get used to this." She stubbornly refused any extra coats or huddles between some middle-aged men. Chapeau, on the other hand, was being stubborn, too, and brought her close to keep warm. The offering and persistence was hilarious, so there was no refusing in it. He had the stench of fresh blood, grease, and alcohol, but was still welcoming. The assassin kept forward, ignoring the two until they reached the docking area. Winter was practically setting in because the coverage the girl had right now could not suffice. Every few minutes, she would jump in place and breathe out some dense fog. _It must be December already_.

Unfortunately, at the sight of the dock waited more British guards, so they have to resort to making some noise again—a riot? Chapeau was ready to shake things up, but the Sons had to hide until they got to the ships. "Stephane," Connor began, "start a riot and have the guards on the left kept busy. I will eliminate the guards here and Tsipporah, you must stop any oncoming guards from breaching the docks, understand?"

"Yes, sir!" she saluted, "No one and nothing gets past the red line!"

"Excellent," Sam applauded, "though, I do fear for the woman's safety…"

"You sure you do not fear for the poor guys that's gonna know what their brain looks like in a split second? I should. Redcoats giving me a red coat." She waltzed off to the start of the dock to stand her ground as did everyone else and was sure as hell that this wasn't going to be pretty at all. Just in a minute and a half of her waiting for men to come, a lively crowd sounded off from her right with guards springing from the shadows from all sides. _Talk about painting the town red_. Off in the distance was hacking, chopping, and screaming on the winds, so she knew who was getting on with the brutality.

Tsipporah brandished her blades, swinging them back and forth as men came in her direction, giving some cut-throats and spinal injury that would lead to painful, uncomfortable deaths. She favored clean kills over spilling blood everywhere, so there were more fatal swipes, stabs, kicks, punches, jabs—just about something to cause some rolling on the floor. After what seemed like forever, smaller opposing groups appeared and the massive rioting was keeping them busy, which made killing-space tinier. The novice took this time to wait on the Sons and Connor.

* * *

Once a whistle sounded, the Sons, some recruits, and his observer emerged from the crowd or some hiding spaces armed and ready. Connor gave the group a heads up and turned to the boats that held the British tea. He stopped in mid-step though, after seeing a familiar figure jump off the boat and onto the dock. She was dressed as a male colonist to fool guards as it seems, making her way to the Sons.

"Alice… what the fuck?" Tsipporah didn't know whether to be happy she came or disappointed that she wasn't cuddling with her fiancée.

"I wanted to help, " she giggled as if this was a picnic, "I have been watching you all and I have already threw some tea—"

"You're wounded!" the novice pointed to the girl's waistline that discharged blood.

"Just a scratch, "she waved her hand like it was literally nothing.

"Connor, who is this woman?" Sam asked, but before Connor could answer, Paul Revere—one of the Sons—called out that there were Regulars on the way. _Goddamn it_. It was already too late to send Alice home at this point, so Connor ordered for Tsipporah to 'clean' the streets and she obliged, jumping off the rail of the ship. Chapeau offered his services to keep them busy as well as he threw the tea into the water, running to knock out some Regulars once he removed a fair amount of cargo. Alice, on the other hand had to stay close to her cousin because he knew how crazy she could get in a serious slaughter. She didn't do so well when their village was set aflame long ago when they were very little…

The observer swore that this disposal of tea looked like damn assembly line when they had to eliminate some guards, remove tea, and toss it in the water. Her legs would get one hell of a work out before the night was over because the soreness in her legs was getting the best of her, but she didn't falter. She couldn't afford to. Gazing about the others, they were working so hard and pushing to their limits to support their cause, so quitting at this point would be selfish; especially since Connor was leading them and she cannot, by any means, abandon him. The thought of it made her think of home and how much she was starting to appreciate her 'normal' life…

"Tsipporah!" a husky voice called out to her. She snapped from her thoughts and looked to Connor who catapulted himself in her direction her and the novice yelped at how he harshly dragged her out of the way, quickly wrapping his arms around her. Once they both hit the ground, Connor accepted the ground's impact to shield his friend. In a swift movement, he hacked his tomahawk into the throat of the Regular that almost charged them at full force. The observer got to her feet as well as Connor's side with her eyes glowing like a child's.

"Sorry," she said timidly, "I got distracted. Thank you." He nodded and went back onto the ships to finish his deed. Sure, she was sore all over, but now she can't turn back. Not after what her assassin did. After the long, painful labor, the tea was finally finished. The crowds on the dock cheered at the efforts of the Sons and their attendants, who stretched in exhaustion. Alice patted her cousin's and friend's backs happily, now that they were done.

"We did it, cousin!" she bounced and used him for a piggy-back ride.

"Yes, we did…" he huffed in his tiredness, supporting his cousin's weight. The Sons gathered again, following Connor off the ships with his observer beside him. It was tiring, but well worth it; exciting, really. Never did the novice realize how much exhilaration was put into this historical event. Now every time that there was a mention of the Boston Tea Party, she can say: "Fuck yeah, Boston Tea Party was the shit!"Alice was starting to yawn and nuzzle her face into the nape of Connor who smirked at her action. He gave an even brighter look to Tsipporah who scratched her chin as he stared.

"What?" she smiled playfully.

"You did well tonight."

"No. I got distracted and you had to save me. I'm sorry. (It will never happen again.)"

"(I told you I would be the one protecting you.)"

She scoffed at his comment, knowing full well what he just said. Alice would, too, but she was snoozing. Chapeau leapt off the boat with a tea crate and stopped in front the hooded man. "Connor! We saved the last for you!" he handed the last piece of cargo to the leader, who gladly accepted it whole-heartedly, but his cousin still clung to his back obstinately. He raised it for all to see and the crowds cheered, and jumped as he threw it into the water. "I really wanna go home right now—"she spotted them. _There they were_—the Templars. Only three of them in a good distance, but there they were. Perhaps _now_ was a good time to leave. William Johnson paled as the heroes were jubilant and Charles Lee gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before slowly parting.

"Best we get out of here, eh?" Chapeau suggested, not aware of the Templars' appearance, but Connor didn't either. Good. He wouldn't do so well against Charles Lee at this point. It was still too soon, so the novice thinned her lips and gave the enemy a good mooning and followed the group, buttoning her trousers. _What a night._

* * *

The large group slowly departed to different directions, returning home until there was another big party to plan. Those of the Brotherhood retreated to their carriage and the hooded one whistled to the carriage-rider to go on ahead. His rider, known to some as Robber, lifted his chin and waited for the door to close and set off to Homestead. In her weariness, the novice asked the one whom she was tasked to watch of the chauffeur, so he explained.

"His name is Fillan McCarthy and I met him a few days after you left. He is a good man who once tried to steal from the manor one day, but I caught him. He pleaded for allegiance after I saved his life in New York as he is now indebted to me." She nodded in understanding as she turned back to the window, but as she did so, she felt a crick in her neck. Nothing was said about it save for the groggy grunt she gave and lied, saying that she was just too tired.

"I think Angie would love to talk to your recruit out there. Fillan, I mean. And by 'love to talk' she'll probably ride him like a horse…" she laughed dryly, knowing full well that that was the truth. Ever since Angie lost her virginity, it was all she did next to dancing—partying and fucking. _High school was crazy_. Strange, how she shared the best advice in terms of relationships and how she knows when two people are meant for each other. Almost like Connor—fights injustice and strives for peace; best friend in the world and he kills like Berserker. Wait… did she really compare Connor and Angie? _Pfft_….

"Is something the matter?" Connor inquired, pulling his hood back. That was no help at all because the observer flinched at the sight of his facial features._ This will take a while to get used to_. "No. It's just that… Angie is undoubtedly a whore as you are much of a killer is all," that didn't come out right at all, "but you are still good people. Somehow, I always end up being friends with someone who is virtuous and bad at the same time. Like really _bad_. I mean, I paint the most beautiful things—according to some people—give the best advice on love, and have a large circle of friends. Guess what? My paintings are from my nightmares, I am _so_ single, and I am a _complete_ sociopath with a potty mouth." She thought the whole concept of her character is hilarious. Having a pirate streak and wearing skulls should scare off people, but it brought people to her instead. What on earth is causing this attraction?

Connor shook his head and finally bequeathed himself a natural smile to his observer who felt a bit uncomfortable that he looked genuinely happy. "You truly are strange. I do not know what it is that makes you intriguing, but you just are. You are honest, loyal, and true at times, but also brash, un-lady-like, and sour to the ears."

"Don't make hurt you…" she hissed.

"However, I prefer your company than another's." his eyes sparkled.

"I don't like your tone, tree-hugger. If you get all mushy on me—"

"Fear not, we have other pressing matters, but it seems to me that you are afraid of caring for others more than granted." Her eye twitched…

"Connor," she huffed in annoyance, "Stop it!" she really didn't need this romantic shit happening in a closed space. "I want to sleep. It's enough that Angie bothers me with her innuendos."

"There you go," he pointed, "acting childish again." Tsipporah blew air from her nostrils and thinned her eyes to slits. If she tried to say something else, then all Connor will do is pin her done with his matured tongue. Trying to talk to him proved difficult, but then again, her personality has never changed since she was five. Her eyes turned to Alice, who was sure to have the best wedding memories now that the tea shipment was subdued greatly. Maybe now she can assist her friend in her wedding plans since this whole revolution was tainting any joyous thoughts. _Kateri's wedding dress_. If her mother was as strict as Connor claimed she was, then something had to be done in order to accepted into her bridal plans. She would have to face the "dragon lady" if she was to fully support her companion.

"We have put a stop to William Johnson's plans and yet you still look saddened." Connor brushed the clumsy hairs that fell over the novice's eyes and she instinctively grabbed his wrist, threatening to break his thumb out of place. The native only scoffed, strongly pulling his hand out of her grip and mirrored her action without the hazard of injury.

"So much for maturity."

"Yes. You haven't changed since we met."

"I haven't damn well changed since kindergarten; I just curse now and know how to kill people." She tried with all her might to take her arm back to no avail and Connor kept his eyes locked on her. "_Jesus_, what do want from me?" she gave up, slumping her limb.

"Tell me. Have you ever seen me before?"

"When I was fourteen, you numb-nuts—"

"No… _much earlier than that_. I have the strangest premonition that I have seen your face surrounded by lights before…"it was one of the things that have been bothering him ever since she left after he received his assassin's garb. Her songs brought about a bizarre nostalgia that reminded him of his mother, but in a more surreal fashion. All of his nightmares were replaced by scenarios with her in it, but were they real? Tsipporah finally took her whole arm back and realized the suspicion, too. Didn't she—

"Let's not worry about that right now. _Right now_, I want to help your cousin have a fabulous wedding."

"And what do you know about our traditions?"

"_Traditions_? I was just gonna help her _Mac-out_. Look _fly_. Get that dirt off her shoulder."

"What…?"

"You'll see tree-hugger." She gave him a 'me gusta' grin…

* * *

**So the Holiday treat's coming up next and I hope you guys enjoyed some patriotic action from the story. I try my best if not word-vomit. (LOL) Anyway, I am grateful for the ton of views and followers I've gained. Love you guys so much and may you get something expensive for Christmas. **

**Thank you! :D**


	9. Chapter 9: Holidays I

_ "There cannot be a happy ending to the fight between the raging gods and humans. However, even in the middle of hatred and killings, there are things worth living for. A wonderful meeting or a beautiful thing can exist. We depict hatred, but it is to depict that there are more important things. We depict a curse, to depict the joy of liberation. What we should depict is how the boy understands the girl, and the process in which the girl opens her heart to the boy. At the end, the girl will say to the boy, "I love you, Ashitaka. But I cannot forgive humans." Smiling, the boy should say, "That is fine. Live with me."_

-**Hayao Miyazaki** (finalized ideas for _Princess Mononoke_)

* * *

Night still reigned and the Davenport manor was quiet apart from the crickets and owls sounding on the stray winds. Connor had his cousin dispatched to Myriam, who was fully awake upon their return, aware that her roommate vanished to their aid. Alice woke up in time to wearily get inside her wooden cabin and waved off to her friends. Myriam shook her head at her friend's recklessness in the day and wished them a good-night and tended to her companion. Now it was just the observer and the assassin left to the veil of darkness. The novice habitually swung her head back, noting the discomfort in her neck-muscle. The taller male stopped her, sensing her dreariness.

"Are you not well, Tsipporah?" Connor caught her by the shoulder. The novice dismissed his aide and walked along a bit faster, but tripped on her own foot. She was caught before her face kissed the ground reluctantly. "I will carry you the rest of the way."

"For fuck's sake—"

"With or without your permission, I said I'd take care of you."

"Whatever," she yawned, not really caring to carry an argument in her languid state. The assassin craned her off the ground and held her in his arms as a mother would for a newborn child. She, of course, did everything in her power to look poker-faced. His woodland scent filled her nostrils as he held her close and her head laid upon his chest. The novice swore that her heart sped a thousand times more just being held like this, but tried to think nothing of it. She was always surrounded by handsome, charming men and felt the same adrenaline in her early childhood days. This was probably another passing infatuation. _It must be_.

"I've never been to a Native American wedding before…" her eyes felt heavy, "I wonder what you guys do for reception…"

"No alcohol is permitted on marriage grounds, but it does not mean the entirety is bland. If you are permitted to witness the ceremony, then your friend will be able to come as well." _Angie coming to a wedding_? The only reason she ever comes is for the booze, the men, and the dance floor—not to mention the one night stands. The novice gave a weak chuckle at the thought of Angie just coming for the dancing only, which was clearly impossible. The only issue now is to make her dress, it seems. All of this beckoning of independence consumed the time for her levity. She thought Alice deserved it with all her hard work and time she's used up to support the colonists' cause.

Once the two were inside the manor, Connor placed Tsipporah on her feet with great care. The girl managed to balance herself on her own and went up the stairs at a normal pace. She turned to her door and stopped at the strange noises coming from the inside. The observer staggered for moment before looking into the keyhole to see what was happening and realized, as she turned the knob, that her door was locked. _What_? Connor came behind her, not liking her struggle to get in one bit.

"What is that noise? Is the door locked?"

"_Yeah_…" she didn't even bother because she knew what was happening. Unfortunately, Connor did not and pulled out his special wires and knobs to unlock the door. Tsipporah threw her head back in exhaustion and too tired to pay attention to what he was doing until she heard the door click open. Her eyes drastically opened as he almost opened the door. The noise behind it was getting louder and clearer, too—it contained a whole legion of passionate moaning.

"Don't do that!" the girl hissed, shutting the door. Connor frowned.

"I have unlocked the door and now you do not want to get inside?"

"So you're telling me that you can't hear that—"a louder, ecstatic cry sounded through the wooden door, lacing it with whining and disjointed words. The voice was quite familiar as well. The novice didn't bother to check what was happening for she already knew. Her hand combed through her disheveled locks and looked back to her assassin-friend who gave a blank stare at the door.

"That was Angie… she could be hurting!"

"Hurting so _good_, probably."

"_'Hurting so good_'? What does that even mean—I see…" he looked back at the in disgust and brushed past his observer to his own room. However, the girl stood dumbfounded, knowing that once Angie gets to humping she won't open the door until morning because she'll snooze after a bump and grind; as she predicted there, quietness. She was fast asleep as every part of her body relaxed after a collective spasm, and then tomorrow she'll brag about how amazing it felt and why her friend hasn't tried it yet. She hasn't, really, and felt no shame. It was one of her innocent quirks: she would only give her unbitten fruits to her true love. It was a foolish notion, but it was pure, wasn't it?

"Whether it's unlocked or not, Connor, I can't just go inside. There's no room on the bed and they both damn well jizzed everywhere." She emphasized _everywhere_. Connor rubbed the back of his head in thought and came to a reasonable solution.

"Why not sleep in my room for the night?" he proposed.

"Oh no… That's that shit I don't like…" she backed away from him.

"Well, what do propose? I had no intention of any inapt behavior. You had no objections before."

"The hell you mean 'bef—_Oh_." She recalled the night at the stables and sputtered her lips. Shaking her head, she opened his bedroom door in defeat and he followed suit. His room was very fitting for him, especially since he added some native-flavor. The canopy was still the same as hers, but the sheets were replaced with furs and animal skins in beaded patterns, and the walls carried some contemporary cave-man feeling to it. In short, the novice thought that if Connor should retire from killing, he should be an interior designer. She kicked off her shoes and was crestfallen to see that her feet was riddled with blisters, but huffed in annoyance rather than pain and continued to take off her patriotic coat and weapons. Her top almost came over her head when she remembered that she was not alone in the room.

"Are you looking, tree-hugger?"

"No, I was leaving, but then you—"

"You wanted to see if I _matured_?" she said sarcastically and Connor slammed the door as he exited the room, taking it as an offense. He would never peep-tom another girl; it was disrespectful, shameful even. Why would he even consider looking upon her bodice without her permission? _Wait…_ Was he really wondering if he would have her permission? Nope. Nope. _Nope_. Tsipporah searched through his drawers for some pajamas and found an abundance of large sleep-wear. She took one into her hands and the stench of the forest entered her nose. It was heavenly. The novice put it over her head and allowed the clothing to fit against her body, even though it was obscuring it pretty well.

"Hey, dude, I'm finished." She opened the door with Connor waiting behind it. He turned to see her wearing something of his and looked back to her face. She de-braided her hair and it was now loose and full, going in every direction with defined, soft curls—not to mention it grew ten times more than it has the last time he's seen her hair like this.

"What? Go change." She pulled him into the room and it was her turn to wait outside.

"Your hair…" he whispered.

"What? Did you say something?" she pulled on the free-flowing attire. Connor shook his head, noting that it was simply nothing important and he went to change. The novice closed the door behind her and the native-male went to undress. He unbuttoned his suit slowly to avoid clumsy work in the threading and laid his coat and coverage on the canopy bed. He leaned against the bed's post and suddenly withdrew to his thoughts on how today went. He failed to assassinate William Johnson, but managed to thrash his finances and save his village without spilling the man's blood. He smiled at the minimum damage, but remembered something his observer told him before. If she were to leave, he would have to kill all of the Templars. His eyes turned to the door she waited behind. Everything would be right again, wouldn't it? He destroys the Templars and she would return home. He'd save his village and she returns to the future. Somehow the thought of her leaving fashioned a gaping hole in his chest that consumed all of his heart…

"Oh my God, are you _done _yet? You're going to bed, not a runway show—" she bust the door open, which alarmed Connor to a fighting stance, but relaxed upon seeing that it was none other than the noisy-woman. Her heart climbed up her throat as she gazed at his uncovered torso. His every muscle was toned and defined; every part of him seeped with a luscious male vibe. Tsipporah quickly closed her eyes and turned around, resisting the image of his naked. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" she was fully awake and shut the door behind her. Maybe sharing a bed—a room, in fact, was a shitty idea. Her naughty bits were tingling at the thought of it or maybe it was her common sense leaving her body. _Most likely both_…

"You could not wait, could you not?"

"What?" she squealed, "Wait for what?"

"To sleep." Connor's thumb pointed to the bed and he, too, was in his sleepwear. The novice gathered her rational thoughts and ventured back into the room, splaying herself on the beds' contents.

"I guess this is fine…" she moved over so Connor would have more room, "we've done this gig before. Night, hero." She pulled the covers over herself and her assassin, who was now curious of why she suddenly shrieked in his presence. Were his recent activities finally striking fear into her heart? He fixed himself upon his side and shook Tsipporah's shoulder. She hummed to herself before turning to face him, and soon regretted it. His face nearly hovered over hers and his warm breath almost made her eyes flutter, and her full lips to relax, defenseless.

"W…What?" she faked a yawn, disguising her dizziness.

"I was wrong before; about you refusing to grow when you _have _and for that I am sorry. We will always have to dirty our hands to reach the truth. I did not want to expose you to such danger because you have become a priority as those I care for—my family and my home." Her eyes widened and felt her body become numb at the mention of… his home? When did she become so important to him all of a sudden? Helping him keep his home sure, but to be as important as his home and friends are? Her biggest fear was erupting—she finally became the apple in his eye.

"Connor…" her eyes were veiled with fatigue.

"Tsipporah?" he turned her face to his as her words faded.

"_Someone's waiting to love you…_" a lyric escaped her lips and the world of dreams took hold of her. Connor's eyes softened at the realization that she was the one who had sung to him that night…

* * *

The next morning was bathed in mist. December snow was setting in rapidly as light flakes of ice rained down on Davenport, Homestead. Angie woke with a start, scratching her mesh of milk-blonde curls and cracked her stretched bones. She rolled to the side where another laid, snoring softly. She smiled and fancied the thought of doing something special for the winter season. It was the 20th after all and… _Hold the fuck up_. It was the 20th of December and nothing spectacular was being set up! Angie shook her blond bed-mate until his eyes fluttered open.

"Fillan, baby, today's the 20th!" she bounced on the bed in all of her naked glory. The Robber's vision was fixed as he saw her toned body saddling him, reminding him of what took place the night before. He rubbed his eyes and smiled devilishly.

"Yeah, so?" he stretched, placing his hands on her hips as he relaxed.

"What do you mean '_so_'? It's four days before Christmas, you numb-nuts." She giggled at his demanding touch to ravish her all over again, planting a trail of sensual kisses until he reached her lips.

"_'Numb-nuts'_?" he growled in her ear, "That's not what you called me _last night_."

"Heehee, that's not the point. It's almost Christmas," she kissed him, "I want to get you and everyone nice presents, and a nice little party for the holidays. I'll get you something _really_ special…" She gave his blue eyes a gentle glance before capturing his lips into hers and he gladly accepted it by deepening the kiss, his tongue exploring the cavern of her mouth. His hands snaked around and up her spine, causing a fervent gasp to break out from Angie. She had never yearned to do it all over with the same man (or woman) before and wanted to please, caress, and pleasure him again…

"Damn it, Angie! I want my bed back!" Tsipporah kicked the door open and couldn't care less if the whore had clothes on or not. The blonde couldn't care less either now that she was ready for round four… until the assassin stepped in.

"Fillan, my observer needs her sleeping quarters back if you do not mind."

"I do not, actually." He rolled to the other side of the bed and to the floor as Angie proudly stepped from the covers, exposing _everything_.

"It's a little cold, ain't it?" the novice wrinkled her face at her friend's expense.

"Yeah. It's four days before Christmas, too. We should think of some holiday ideas. _Fast_." The novice blinked at the subject. That's right. They did the whole Boston Tea Party fiasco during winter break. Goddamn… Tsipporah licked her lips and thought hard about it. Tree decorations, holiday clothes, gift-giving, and songs by the fire, big fat turkey and sweets…

"Tsipporah," Connor called, "we must dress and see Achilles."

"Go by yourself. I wanna talk to Angie about having a Christmas party." He attempted to drag her, closing in—"and if you drag me, I'll go to jail." Fillan pulled his trousers up and snorted as he exited the room. Angie, alternatively, crossed her arms and stood by her friend and the male of the Brotherhood waved his hand and left, leaving the two girls to chat. The novice didn't even want to bother on the wild night her friend had—in _her _bed.

"So what should we do about Christmas?" she began.

"Aren't you going to ask me about last night?"

"Ok…" she exclaimed, pokerfaced, "What did you do last night?"

"Oh, babe… Fillan just came in my room and locked the door, saying—"

"_'Let's fuck each other's brains out'_?"

"He told me about himself, things lead from one thing to another, and then…"

"_You humped like rabbits_."

"I think I'm in love, Sipsy. I never thought it was possible, but you were right! True love exists!" she squealed and jumped in place with her breasts bouncing in synch.

"_Ok_… now put some clothes on, shit."

"He is _so_ good in bed, Sipsy-babe." She swooned in her tone. "Did you and Connor have a nice night, too? You saw him topless, at least? Tell me you saw his di—"

"_Did I_? No. We were both too tired and just wanted to sleep. I'm gonna go… Oh, right! I never said hello to Faulkner yet! And there was Peg-leg who holds information about Captain Kidd's treasure! See ya!" she darted out the door and down the stairs in her PJ's. Angie laughed a little at her friend's attitude. Who was she kidding? Tsipporah's too much of a virgin to hook up with anyone. She clings to childish dreams and calls Connor a "hero" as if they were role-playing as they did in grade school, but she saw something different in her eyes this morning. Something she thought would come to her. _Fulfillment_.

* * *

Connor left the manor and went to the cliff-sides once his standard assassin suit and weaponry were on. The sun had not reached to the sky entirely, thus the twilight and rays bled through the skies. He thinned his eyes to the shining rays to make out where his master was and ran to him once he was spotted. The old man said nothing despite knowing full well that his student waited there for a response. It seemed like forever before a conversation took place.

"It is done." Connor plainly said.

"Johnson is dead?"

"No," the student replied, unable to lie, "he retreated when we destroyed the tea."

"Only to hatch some new scheme, I'm sure… You should have killed him."

"There was no need."

Achilles closed his eyes, wondering if Connor knew what he was saying and gave a sigh. "Time will tell if you speak the truth." The student assumed that this discussion was over since the old man didn't seem too proud of him. His words were brief and his eyes were barely lifted to him even as he walked in his sightline. The young man combed his hand through his hair and threaded away, leaving Achilles to enjoy the sunrise. However, at the corner of his eye the Aquila and her mates cleaning the decks in a lively fashion with Faulkner directing orders; as he went into the forest, he noticed that his first mate stopped in order to speak with someone. _Of course_.

He couldn't see too clearly who it was, but by the body-language and boasting it was none other than his own observer. Connor smirked to himself at the thought of her planning something as feminine as a party for the holidays. Picturing her dressing up for such an occasion was even more so.

"Connor," Achilles voice sounded behind him.

"Yes, what is it?" he sprinted back to where his master sat. The old man gestured him to come closer and handed an envelope to him. The envelope was strange, however; not like a general note, but this one had a crimson wax-seal on the envelope's hatch with a… royal seal stamped in? Even the corners of it had gold-reliefs…

"Who is this from? Is it a letter?" Connor held the piece of document.

"It is a letter sent from the Queen of France. She has been receiving letters from Samuel Adams about our cause and has secretly been funding for weaponry, armory—among other things."

"It reads that she is currently hiding in Boston." Connor skimmed through the note.

"You must fetch her. She will not stay for long, nor does anyone except for her husband know that she is here." The hooded assassin folded the letter and tucked it away, heading for the woods to get his observer first. _This was pretty sudden_. What… Why would the Queen of France come to America _in person_?

* * *

"You are still as sharp as always, mate. Aquila's missed you for quite some time."

"I miss her and the crew, too, Faulkner, but you know I can't ride unless the captain says so. By the way, if I said I was planning a Christmas party, would you come?" Tsipporah gave the drunken mate a light nudge to the arm. He crossed him arms and thought about it—the rum, the gifts, the fun, the rum…

"Aye, you can count on it!" he toasted to her and the novice laughed.

"Okay," she put her hands on her hips, "but you have to bring a gift for someone. _Anyone_." The old man understood, raising his rum-bottle to the air and back to his lips. The girl shook her head and went the other direction to check on Alice—if her wound was healed alright. She cupped her hands over her mouth, feeling winter's chill under her skin, and her foggy breath fled from her mouth. Thank God she put her fighting-suit on or she would turn into a Popsicle before afternoon came, but then she heard something coming towards her… like _running_.

"Whoa! Jesus, Connor, you gotta stop doing that," she breathed, his footing was so light, she thought the wolves scampered from the bowels of the forest. Connor straightened himself and handed her the message. The novice wore an uncaring face and took the piece of paper, but knew of its importance after seeing the royal seal. Once her eyes ran down the page, she looked back to her native friend.

"You're kidding right?" she bore a frightening smile, "This is… Do you know what this is, Connor?" she skipped in place. Her companion acted indifferently.

"The Queen of France is here to discuss business and return home to France once—"

"This is a letter from Marie Antoinette! And she's here! Oh my God…" she was practically fangirling over the fact that she was reading and holding a letter by the French queen—the dauphine. Was she dreaming? Of course she wasn't dreaming…

She bounced on her feet in one place, squealing like fool and her 'hero' looked about her as if she'd gone mad before grabbing her by the shoulders to calm down. He then explained to her that they were requested to pick her up from a certain location that was printed in the letter, but it was written in riddles. _Tsipporah loves riddles as much as she loves adventure._ It then occurred to her that if Antoinette was in league of the Brotherhood—sending letters to one of the supporters—then the Templars would target her, too. That didn't look too good because that would make them both essential, living Macguffins (and essential items used to accomplish a major goal). The observer took Connor's hand; her face emptied of zeal.

"We should find her—fast. The Templars have some sort of inn under their control and their men are everywhere. I would be less worried had you killed at least one." She was still upset that he hadn't assassinated William Johnson. Sure, he was a threat to his hometown, his village, and his people, but how long was he going to keep this "keep your targets alive" charade going? The novice feared that she would never go home for only _he_ can kill them and not her…

"I understand your frustration, but perhaps—"

"Perhaps it didn't occur to you that I'm from the future and you live in the past. I nor my friend can stay here as long as we'd like." She was all out of reasoning and hoped that he wouldn't go on like this. "I'm here to watch you choose the right path. I appreciate you being merciful to your enemy, but," a lump formed in her throat, "how long are you gonna do this?" Connor gazed at her and began to walk about her as a taunting predator would.

"What do you propose? I want us all to be free and live equally. Why must I kill them all?" It was either the winter air thrusting air out of her lungs or maybe she was still mad about Angie jazzing up her bed, and/or she was feeling the African vibes in her veins like her mother does before a spanking. What did he just say? Did he do any study on these men or is he seriously—

"_Ki sa ki lanfè a ou menm ki di_?" her heritage slipped out in malicious anger, "_Ou estipid ti gason ti kras_!" she crouched to the floor and gripped at her messy curls, huffing heatedly as if she was going to turn green any second, unleashing unbearable rage on the whole Frontier.

"Cousin! Tsipp—Oh…" Alice could've sworn that her companion was turning red, which was funny considering her complexion. She wanted to touch her back to appease her, but Connor held her back, shaking his head. The novice breathed one last huff before rising to stand once more. Seeing that Alice was here and well, she greeted her in a complete mood-whiplash.

"Alice, what's up?" her eye still twitched, "We can't sit and chat, but I am planning a Christmas party; tell Myriam about it and everyone else. Connor and I have some business in Boston so bye!" she heaved the assassin by the arm and down the lane as Alice waved weakly at their departure. It has been a while since she spoke Creole and that was when she was _incredibly_ pissed. Even Angie had never gotten her so furious that the vein in her neck propped itself up for the world to see and all her Caribbean rage unraveled off the charts. What she heard was nonsense, though. When Connor had told her once that he was going to kill all of the Templars including his father, she held him to that. She thought he'd grow into this honest man who would do as he'd promised, but…

"Enough, Tsipporah!" he whipped out of her stronghold, "If killing pleases you, then perhaps you should do it yourself. You cannot expect me to—"

"_I don't expect you to do anything but protect your people from maniacal invaders and you're not even doing that_!" she stepped into the empty carriage where Fillan stared wide-eyed at the volume lengths this angry woman went with her tone.

"Ride, Fillan,"Connor pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on, "Take us to Boston." "Aye, sir." And they were off.

* * *

The entire carriage ride was discomforting. _Just… everything about it_. The two members of the Brotherhood refused to look at each other or further discuss important informtation. More on the observer's side laid the main issue because she was just plain furious as if Chapeau's persona was rubbing off on her, but that wasn't the case. In her mind, Connor matured more than he she expected or even hoped for so when he was set out to eliminate his targets and do whatever it takes to protect his people, he would do so, but this situation now was plain ridiculous. He was too soft in her eyes.

Fillan himself couldn't interfere with their quarrel since the girl wouldn't let him:

"Hey, listen, Sipsy—"

"Don't just assume that we're friends on the account that you just fucked my friend in my room and on my bed. You're doing the laundry—_my_ laundry when we get back." And that was that; end of discussion. The recruit and the hooded assassin exchanged a tortured look before they both went their separate ways. Connor and Tsipporah went through the usual blending into the crowds until they reached the designated rendezvous location. Once they came inside an old shed across town, the tale male had to ask something that was slightly poking his mind.

"Tsipporah," she still wouldn't look at him, "how did you know that it was the Queen of France who wrote that letter?"

"What?" she blinked.

"Your eyes only searched for a second. _Literally_."

"She's the only royal I know during this time who had shitty handwriting."

"Well, pardon my 'shitty handwriting', but it is one of the things I am working on." a dulcet voice answered the two. The bickering couple looked up to see a figure waltzing to them from the corner of the room and step into the bit of sunlight that was peeking through the broken wood tiling of the ceiling. It was woman whose skin was white as snow with pulled back, curly hair of strawberry blonde, and a dress of silk and ruffles of mint. Her blue eyes sparkled and rosy cheeks turned up a smile upon seeing who the "strangers were".

"My, you must be Connor Kenway. Mr. Molineux spoke of you at the docks." As expected, he would not return a kiss or hug, like the stubborn guy he is. The observer did, though; squealing inside about how she is meeting the French 'fashionista' Queen. Well, not exactly French by birth—more like French by treaty and marriage, since she's really Austrian. "And you must be the observer—Tsipporah, yes? Mr. Davenport has been telling me wonderful things about you."

"You mean he compliments me to other people and treat me like shit at the manor? You have got to be kidding me."

"I'm sure he means well, but there are other matters to attend to. Only my _husband _knows of my leave. He knows the risks I am taking by just being here and speaking to you two. I may be staying in Boston for a few days and it must be with you. It cannot be the Sons of Liberty." Her face wrinkled with urgency and the novice scratched her chin and looked to Connor. Of course he wasn't going to leave someone behind, especially when it's a sovereign. He turned his back and waved his hand for her to follow, which the Queen gladly did and hopped over to him.

* * *

Ever since they left the old shed across town, the Queen clutched onto the pair for dear life. The novice tried not to laugh when she jumped every time there were rioters riling up and jumping Loyalists. The least she could do was pat her hand, assuring her that this is just the normal day in the life of a Bostonian. The prissy woman didn't want to believe that, but how could she? She's been rolling in a mountain of luxury every day of her life, partying and gambling, and going to operas on a daily basis. Has she ever dreamt of the reality that people on the other have to face when they wake up every morning?

"May I ask you both something?" she asked as the group entered the carriage, "Where do you stand in all of this conflict?" The observer stilled in her seat, but Connor had enough to explain. It was clear of why he joined this fight and why he got tangled into this web of conspiracy—to protect his people. It was always his reason whether it is the colonists or the English. Allegiance didn't matter to him. The Queen's face remained stern as he bluntly explained, but turned to the observer when he was done. The carriage kept moving until the countryside was clear outside their window. The black female bit her lip and fidgeted as if she was being interrogated. For once in her stay here, she wasn't completely sure.

"To be honest, Queen Marie Antoinette… the only thing I know is that I was sent here to watch him." She couldn't even lift her eyes from her own hands. The prissy woman furrowed her brows, "Do you really expect me to believe a portion of what you are telling me?" She didn't really, but it was worth a shot.

"I want to protect the native subjects, too. They are my best friends right now, but what if no matter what I do, they end up…" the novice's words could not finish as if saying it would jinx them. "Dead?" the queen finished for her and Connor, who sat next to her, bore his eyes into that of the observer's. Tsipporah sighed and turned to the window, not wanting to say any more, but Marie wanted to know what she was working with. She couldn't just side with someone who had no clarity of thought.

"With all due respect your highness—"

"Your insincerity to me, your friends, and yourself is hardly any form of respect."

"…"

"You joined simply to protect, but you've no faith that it will change the fate of anyone. How on earth do you support those you watch if your faith is brittle? I can see it in Connor's eyes that he has more courage because he wants more than just to protect, so you should, too." The woman across from her was out of words and didn't really think Marie Antoinette would be the one to tell her that she was out of sorts, but then again, she did get politically involved during the 70's so…

The carriage stopped the moment the young novice had a comeback, but shut her mouth for it to come later. They parked and came up the lane to the manor, where the blonde waited at the patio and Fillan ran up to her, giving a sweet peck on her lips. Her attention overturned when she saw the Queen of France coming their way.

"AH! No fucking way! Marie Anoinette?! Holy shit!" she lifted her off the ground and swung her around like a long lost sister. It took a while before she put her back on the floor.

"So is she gonna be here for the Christmas party?" Angie said as they all sat out on the front porch. Marie jumped at the thought of staying when she heard that they were having a party, but Connor went off to hunt with Myriam and Alice. "Only for the week, so I guess so. I wanted to make something for everyone in the meantime and try to decorate the house, but there is no Wal-Mart, Walgreens, no mall…"

"Make something, you say?" Marie approached her, intrigued. The observer smiled and confessed that she goes to school for art, as did Angie did for performance. She smiled at the fact that they were going to get along just fine. They managed to connect despite them coming from different timelines and had so many ideas for the party. Luckily, Marie had some maps from Molineux on who can help her get some crafting supplies for sculptures.

"So what are you making, Tsipporah? Is it something for Connor?"

"It's something he'll want to keep around, sure. I'm making other things, too…"

"You care about him, do you not?" she froze. "There's nothing embarrassing about confessing your affections to a gentleman such as Connor. He is divine." The old man interrupted just in time and greeted the strawberry-blonde, bidding her to come inside and rest. The novice wiped her brow as she felt a sweat bead form and Angie stifled a giggle, earning an angst fist to the gut. It didn't stop the hilarity, however.

"You just shut the fuck up, Angie, I won't have it!"

"You're making something for Connor, I just know it! You may be emotionally constipated, but not for him." She sniffed, "When are you gonna confess to this guy that you like him, anyway?"

"The day the trumpets sound for the end of the world… and I don't like him that way."

"Stop telling yourself that! I grabbed Fillan by the reins the chance I got—no offense, babe." She waved at her beloved and he nodded back, "None taken, love.""And it's wartime, too. How long do you think he's gonna last out here?"

"Stop saying that!" she protested, "I may not believe in myself enough to help anyone or make a difference, but he does! So don't you dare say that to me about him, ever! Now we're gonna have a nice Christmas party, get everyone together, and have Kateri a big, nice wedding for everyone to remember. Understand?" Oh, Angie understood, alright. Fillan began to see it, too, but walked off the porch and head to the stables. The blonde shook her curls from her face to see the girl's eyes better. It's been a while, but she knew something that her friend for many years was afraid to admit.

"Yeah, I understand, Sipsy," she squinted her eyes, "I understand that you are afraid to admit that you are starting to love this man."

* * *

**Too bad Sipsy's gonna keep her macho-man behavior up until the naval wars. Don't worry, people, she'll soften up. In the meantime, the holidays are coming up, too, and this is only part one of the holidays chapter. I shall post more in time. :D**


	10. Chapter 10: Holidays II

_"The people of the world, all of them, whether it is the different race or the different language or the different lifestyle, tend to only think about what we cannot share. But our brains are all the same. We are the same people. With everyone's strength, we can all share the same feelings. That much is obvious. But it won't come easily."_  
― **Naoko Takeuchi**

* * *

The whole Frontier was soon covered with a veil of light ice that afternoon and some animals started to recede or prepare for hibernation. The deer, the elk, and moose were eating some green savory shares; the foxes, the wolves, and the bears hunting for a mouthful of fish; and the birds and fowls flying about for crawling prey to feed their offspring in the winter. All of Mother Nature's little ones of the woodlands were out to gather their lasting meals before the seasonal sleep; even the local natives wandered the forest to hunt their portion and that of Davenport. Three of those of Davenport were one of few groups hunting out.

"A Christmas party in a small number of days, cousin? Are you not to worry of the Templars or their plots to destroy the colonies?" Alice and the gang perched themselves in the trees to avoid the wolves. Myriam fixed her hunting rifle as she spoke. "Sounds like a plan. Besides, you're going to get married soon, so you should worry about planning wedding and let Connor worry about those English bastards." Anything they had to say went from one ear and out the other when the assassin kept watch for meal, skins, and predators of the forest floor. His cousin had to give him props for his great focus as he took the bow off his shoulders and drew his arrow from his quiver, pulling back the string of the bow and kept his eye out—finally releasing the arrow from his grasp and into the side of an unlucky moose.

"Oh, dear," Myriam crossed her arms as Connor jumped onto the ground, readying himself to fight the oversized beast. The hunting gal yawped if she should assist him in overcoming the provoked creature, but got no answer in return. Instead, he grappled with the moose and tried to flip it onto its back by the horns, which eventually happened after getting charged a couple of times. The young man clad in white sighed in relief and bent down to the moose to pray for its spirit before retrieving its skin, fur, and meat. The girls in the trees whooped as Connor was prepared to climb up the branches, but paused as he heard a familiar noise.

"Cousin! Wolves!"

"Watch out, Connor!" the women readied their weapons and added gunpowder to fire. There was more grappling, furs, and meats to be had as ferocious beasts of feral dogs barreled into him. Two or three were killed by the swiftness of his hidden blade whilst another luckily pinned him to the ground, biting at his throat. Alice fired a shot at the wolf's hide, causing it to lose its strength quickly and gave Connor the advantage to finish the beast off. Drawing his hidden blade, he buried it into the neck of the creature that whined its very last breath. The native man sheathed his blade and stood to see the women still in position, cheering over their victory and waited for him to climb back up.

"You might want to clean up that wound, Connor, before your observer gets angry at you again." Myriam cracked a smile, knowing full well that Tsipporah would indeed be like green on grass about him receiving injuries. He rubbed his neck, barely hissing at the touch of the deep wound. It didn't seem to hit major blood vessels, so he was good.

"I am well. We should return to the manor, for I am sure there are still things to discuss with her highness." The trio left the trees and ventured out the woods.

"I still can't believe the Queen of France, herself, is here. Ain't that a surprise?"

"I've read about that woman, Connor. Angie has told me things as well about her living in the 'lap of luxury' and that she has difficulty getting along with the French people for she is Austrian."

Connor could've sworn he heard Angie mention that at the manor, too, but wasn't interested in gossiping or hearing what others had to say about that woman. If he were to ask about someone, he would confront them himself. However, on Marie Antoinette's account to converse, she was very direct and wanted answers coming from confrontation as well. She didn't want just anyone protecting her out of obligation and obedience, but with clarity and reason. Tsipporah was not on her good side no matter how zealous she was of her. She would not acknowledge her if she had no reason to be there, but how on earth did she not have a reason at this point? Had she not protected him at a climatic second just as he thought his life would during the Boston Massacre and prayed that he would train harder to protect himself? Was she not at all concerned for the village's safety and dented William Johnson's finances alongside him and the Sons of Liberty? This woman was either confused or indifferent to the core.

"Is something troubling you, dear cousin?" Alice snapped him from his thoughts, "You have been silent and your face has been stern for quite some time."

"I am well, Alice, but I fear that someone of the Queen's status would not be safe in a place such as Davenport, Homestead—"

"You are not worried about the queen, Connor. Alice told me that that girl was yelling something awful in your ear before you left this morning. She still mad at you?" He wasn't entirely sure what she was feeling right now. One minute she was sure of herself and wanted Connor to uphold his role in the Brotherhood to protect his people, the next moment she meets the Queen of France, she shrivels up, and uncertainty possesses her.

"I am not sure what is on her mind. She is not worried for my people or me and is conflicted."

"You should talk to her, Connor. She'll listen to you." Myriam nodded.

"Yes, she has spoken from her heart once to you _one night_, she should again." Alice agreed and suddenly widened her eyes at a brilliant idea; "You should make her something for Christmas, Connor!" her cousin looked crestfallen as if she proposed that they should wrestle a pack of bears, which he was not about to do… today.

"Why would I do that?" he thinned his eyes and Myriam rolled her eyes.

"You might as well, Connor. A woman gets her goals mixed up only when her feelings are bottled up and it is most certainly because of a man." She pointed out as they came near the manor. He wrinkled his face at the possibility. Such irony that she tries to be manly and ends up acting more feminine by acting tough in front of men. The trio stopped in their tracks as they saw another trio leave the manor's patio.

"Tsipporah!" Alice was ready to charge and said girl wall-jumped the patio to get to the roof, latching onto each crevice that the wall had to offer. Alice giggled at her friend's swiftness and looked back to the other two women.

"Such energy and spirit this one has," Marie smiled brightly, wearing a white dress this time, "you must be Alice, Connor's cousin, yes?" they shook hands, but the native woman's grip was strong and the exchange lasted for a few seconds.

"What were you gals doing this whole time cooped up in there?" Myriam nosed in.

"Oh," Marie started, "Tsipporah was just showing me her sketchbook. Her works are very marvelous, I assure you. Not at all like any portraits I have seen." She held up a scale-felt book with thick pages inside. The cover was painted over with sceneries and faces the group did not recognize and the internal works were even more so. There were nude studies, still life, and bizarre looking animates among other surreal subjects. The novice felt her skin crawl as she witnessed the Queen of France turning her pages like a child reading a children's book. Some works were done in class, which she didn't mind showing, but all of her surreal pictorials contained personal meanings like: her inner self, her dreams, her emotions that she repressed…

"I think I would like my sketchbook back," she called from the roof, ready to land on someone, "I know you're the Queen of France, your eminence, but if you go any further in those pages of mine… Let's just say that you'll go back to France with a missing eye and a broken hip." Marie's face went blank and immediately closed the book, but Angie grabbed it, wanting to see what was in the back. Knowing the artists in general, their "diaries" are at the back of their sketchbooks. The artist fidgeted and seriously wanted to stab that blonde in the neck in one fell swoop.

"Oh no, Angie don't—"she leapt off the roof and jumped onto her outgoing companion with the elbow blade at her throat. She dropped the book to the side of her and laughed as she was slightly whiplashed on the grass. The novice slowly grabbed her book, keeping her eyes on this nosy girl and backed away off her body. Angie jumped to her feet, brushing herself off as the Queen and Connor stood, stupefied. They both looked at each other and shared the same musing. Whatever is in the back of her sketchbook is kept so closed that she would put others and herself through harm's way to make sure no one finds out what she drew at the last few pages.

"Don't look at the last few pages, man. They're private and when I say private, I mean it. Don't look at it because if I catch any of you looking at it without my permission—"

"You're gonna go to jail," Myriam answered, deadpanned. The novice nodded and ran down the lane where Fillan was, chilling by the lake. They exchanged a few words and went to the carriage, awaiting the boarding of Angie and Marie.

"Well," Marie gave a curtsy, "we are off to fetch some décor for the manor and some food. We will be back in a few hours, so fear not for our extended departure."

"Return before the sun sets," Connor demanded, "the wolves will grow in numbers during the night." The queen took notice of the warning and walked away to the other girls, leaving Alice and Myriam alone with him once more. The two women leaned out, waiting for the carriage to take off further down the road and when it did, they exchanged a mischievous, Cheshire grin. The native man kept his face emotionless as they looked back to him. Myriam started whispering in the native woman's ear and snickered deviously as she did. Connor raised a brow and approached them.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"I know of a couple in Boston who would love to live here, cousin. They say they used to run a pub in New York, but moved to Boston only to have their money swindled away."

"Are you proposing that I should find this couple for them to live here?" Alice nodded, believing that it would be the best gift for the poor folk and a pub here in Homestead would be big enough for all of them to host a party. Myriam thought nothing of the party, but to bring in more people to the countryside would be worthwhile.

The assassin agreed to the side-trip, since he planned on speaking to Clan Mother about something else—something he could not discuss with any of the women living in this place because they are a small town (small town news travel fast). He turned and went down the road to the direction of his village, heading to the cliffs to make use of a short-cut. As he sprinted towards the forest, the winter winds began to stain his breath with fog and the temperature tried to carve into his nerves, but he was not fazed. He grew up in this unpredictable climate and steeled himself against the harsh conditions as he was also trained to. Hoisting himself onto the rocky walls, he took notice of an eagle's nest atop a thick branch. Upon closer inspection, there were feathers left over inside that were perfect for any attire. Smirking to himself, he swiped a good handful of them and went about his business until he reached the walkway. His level of cautiousness never faltered as he kept a lookout for any mountain lions and couldn't help but reminisce of how Tsipporah was crying over the fact that she lacked a proper weapon to kill one. A laugh almost escaped his lips at the memory as he still remembered the look on her face that day. She was weary and tired, but never complained of it. She is very much stubborn like he is.

There were more cliff-falls before he finally reached his village of Kanatahséton, where some of the men were wandering the woodlands, collecting meats and furs. Among one of the hunters was his closest friend, Kanen'tó:kon, who lowered his weapon to greet Connor. "(Ratonhnhaké:ton!)" The two gripped each other's forearms, "(It has been a while. How fares my bride to be?)" Connor gave a small smile, trying to find the words to Alice's definition of "normalcy".

"(She is well, my friend, but I must speak to Clan Mother.)"

"(Certainly)," they both traced back to the their home, "(Is it a private matter, Ratonhnhaké:ton?)"

"(It is something that I should rather ask Clan Mother of, but it is not serious.)"

"(Is it something I should know about?)" Connor wasn't sure how to put this…

"(Is it about Tsipporah being here once more?)" Connor paused and wore an expression that only a sick dog should wear. He gave himself a moment before allowing himself through the walls and near a longhouse containing the person whom he was seeking. His 'brother' grinned, already seeing that all his qualms were proved to bear fruit, elbowing Ratonhnhaké:ton peevishly. After rubbing his face, he glared in annoyance.

"(What are you smiling about, Kanen'tó:kon?)"

"(Did you not tell Tsipporah of your dreams of her? Kateri surely hasn't—)"

"(You told my cousin of this matter?!)"

"(Peace, my friend. She promised to never tell a soul, but she has sent word that you have acting strange ever since your friend's return.)" The native man snorted at the mention of her being his 'friend'. Even in the presence of the French Queen, she wasn't even sure what her status was and what her personal reasons were for serving the Brotherhood besides being the Eyes of the First Civilization. He wanted to clear up her true purpose in the case of service and that is why he sought out Clan Mother's advice. He tried countless times to speak with Achilles of this matter, but the information that the Creed held about the Eyes were very vague. All they knew of the Eyes was that they can be obtained by anyone, but they are bred to serve the Brotherhood and no one else. They have the power to rip a hole through time and bend the universe to their will, and many assassins throughout his lineage had these people—most were known to be women—aid them in searching for the Pieces of Eden. He wanted to know more than what the Creed itself knew of them. He had to speak to the Clan Mother.

"(Ah! Ratonhnhaké:ton, how good it is to see you.)" The Clan Mother inside the longhouse sat by a fire, happily welcoming her 'son' for coming back to visit after such a long time. Connor's visits to his home were rare and unannounced, thus the old woman would treasure each of his trips. She waved her hand for him to sit if he pleases and sat up to look at him closely.

"(You have grown into a fine young man. I have heard of your deeds to stop the finances of William Johnson and I am very proud of you. However, the others of the Iroquois have joined the English, believing that their lands would remain safe.)"

"(Our people will always take a different path no matter what happens, Clan Mother. Let the Iroquois do as they please. We should remain here.)" The old woman cracked a smile and clutched her staff to stand to her feet in a steady motion.

"(True. We cannot abandon our home, but to remain here would mean that our entirety in our mission has not yet been completed. We are here to protect the sanctuary from invaders and those who would desecrate the messages that those before us left behind. However, I do not believe that what you have come to talk about, eh?)" Connor looked to his hands before gazing into the eyes of his elder, sensing that she held the answers to his unreciprocated questions, so he began.

"(Do you know of the Eyes of the First Civilization, Clan Mother?)" she nodded true, sitting herself on the ground again as if she were to whisper something that even she was forbidden to tell. "(The Eyes have existed for many moons—more than a man or woman can count. They lay in an unreachable space in time where no mortal can speak to them unless the spirits of the sanctuary reaches them as they are energies in the form of flesh to bring guidance to those in the Creed you serve now. Many were known to be women for they are the most respected as your mother was long ago.)"

"(My mother…?)"

"(Yes. Your father was of the Creed once and your mother was destined to guide him, but those chosen as observers were not deemed to love but to aid. She soon grew affections for that man—Haytham Kenway—and Aghanashimi were forever ashamed of your mother's sin against the Creed.)" This was a lot to take in, but it did not matter. He wanted to know and so most of his unheard questions were being countered ten-fold. Nothing was regretted as these words came to his ears from his elder for she would never speak of lies. He folded his hands, absorbing this information and gave attention to her again.

"(My mother chose not to direct him on the correct path…)"

"(Nor did she speak of her alliance with the Brotherhood to him, but he eventually knew of it and said nothing. She had to remain in this village for her own safety and yours; and her gifted abilities of an observer were sealed because of her betrayal to the Creed. The observers are tasked with preserving the way of the Creed and with it—the absolute protection of the sacred lineage. You must complete what is asked of you, Ratonhnhaké:ton, for your enemy seeks to destroy humanity by destroying one's humanity.)" He understood her words, but had more to ask. The observers are just as human as everyone else is, but appear more complex as one gets to know them. Is that normal?

"(Then what of the girl who watches me, Clan Mother? If she receives messages from the Great Spirits, then why is her mind wandering?)"

"(Her mind is not wandering, my son, she is simply not as direct about you as your mother was to the one whom she was watching. She may not know it yet, but many observers before her held great respect for those whom they watch and some bloom into something more. If they do not go about it so clearly, then it is because she wants you to not be distracted.)" Such wise words and much information, but was it enough to prove that that novice paralleled the actions of those before her. Whether it be a thousand-year-old mannerism or her emotional constipation, Tsipporah was very over-protective of him even if he was capable of managing by himself. She once worried that she was smothering him and keeping him from training. Connor felt as if he'd come back to square one on this issue, feeling that he's had enough of this complexity that this woman tries to build up against him.

He bid hid elder farewell, but not before she told him of how proud she was of him growing into a fine young man. This wasn't the only thing that boggled his mind. _Agahanshimi_. Just as he left the entrance to the longhouse, there waited his aunt facing him only three feet away. She sneered, scanning his appearance and scoffed at how he looked just like his father, and Connor replied with a sarcastic greeting if that would have any effect. His childhood friend stepped to his side, knowing full well that this woman was truly more bestial than any English soldier or creature that walked the Frontier. Aghanashimi threw her head back and cackled at how pathetic the two look opposing her.

"(Save your breath, boys. You will only have to fear me at my daughter's wedding. I wonder if I can still call her my daughter…)"

"(Whatever Clan Mother has to say about you does not make me soft and pity you. You have banished Kateri from your home and will definitely not let her marry.)"

"(She can rot in the netherworld with my sister without a husband for all I care for you know our marriage customs fool. If I do not agree to all of the terms of the ceremonial conformity, then she cannot marry you.)" She threatened Kanen'tó:kon who grew furious with each sentence she spat at his feet. It was clear that her hatred for the English was immortal, but to take it out on her own daughter was certain cruelty. The two men would not stand for this, but without proper persuasion, she will single-handedly destroy his cousin's wedding without batting an eyelash. Connor relaxed himself and walked up to his aunt until they were face to face. His aunt was as tall as him and showed no fear or waver but a sadistic smile that could in no way falter.

"(What say you that we should solve this in a civilized method?)" Connor anticipated.

"(What do you propose we do, _half-breed_?)" She hissed a grievous insult.

"(_Snow snake_. Come to Homestead in five days from now and you will be challenged. Whichever team wins will decide the fate and future of Kateri and Kanen'tó:kon.)" Connor concluded and turned away, but not without his friend wearing a worried expression and clutching his shoulder. The assassin nodded his head, pledging to his comrade that there was nothing to fear for he already knew who would aid him in this conflict. As he left the village, he bid the hunters farewell and went to Boston to fetch the needy couple who were available to open a pub and settle into a place to call home. His verves hardened, realizing who he was going to run into once he gets there.

* * *

The girls found aid in Molineux, who directed them to various stores that would help them find what they would need in order to decorate the manor. Of course, the manor was the only thing that came to mind when the frizzle-headed blonde suggested that a party must be held for Christmas because it was the only subtle place for gatherings in Homestead. In one shop, the Queen of France froze in place as she spotted an expensive dress that was imported recently from Paris and begged the other two to admire its embroidery as well. Angie crumpled her whole face, not really interested in the whole old, poufy dresses of the 18th century. Tsipporah, on the other hand went ablaze and squealed at the careful detailing in the patterns. She commented and drooled over how this must have taken a whole month to finish and should not be wasted.

"Do you wish to purchase this dress, Tsipporah?" Marie asked, her eyes focused on the clothing's authenticity. Now it was the novice's turn to be a statue. _She not planning on buying the dress herself, is she?_

"Nope. I'm good."

"Come on, Sipsy! You're skinny enough to fit into it—I know it! Buy it Marie."

Angie insisted and Marie obliged, walking into the store with the novice staring blankly and mouthed 'I will destroy you' to her accomplice. She could not quarrel with the queen, though. They've already gathered everything but a pine tree. Getting the ornaments was too easy, but catching the turkey was hell. They can't fly too far, but man, can they run! Marie spoke to the shop owner to see about the dress on display and asked politely to purchase it… with a full bag of Euros, of course. The man behind the counter was easily bought and handed over the dress, packaged with other supplies a beautiful woman such as Marie would want. Her charms always seemed to pull them through to get whatever they needed…

"There," she handed the box over, "Your dress for Christmas. Think of it as an early gift. It was quite nice of that gentleman to give matching shoes as well. You will look so _darling_ in this."

"Yeah," Angie agreed, "maybe Connor might not think twice about taking you to _wonderland_." Her accomplice met with a very tempered upper-cut that knocked her to the ground, but laughed at the effect her words caused.

"Shut the fuck up, Angie. I don't see you getting any presents for the guys."

"Gift shopping is tomorrow, remember? God, sometimes you just forget—_Oh. No._ Come this way!" a complete mood-whiplash and a pull into the alleyways cut the hilarity short. The queen immediately obeyed and made no sudden movements while Fillan waited quietly on the other side of the street, unperturbed, to raise no suspicion. The novice leaned out a little further to see that Charles Lee was on the loose, prowling the streets with none other than William Johnson. As it would seem, they were discussing something of great importance. Another scheme to claim the land on which her native friends stood on, no doubt. Looking at him now—breathing and alive—walking the streets of Boston, made her suddenly sick to her stomach. Tsipporah was then reminded of what Connor had said to her that made her blood boil. She could not kill this man even if she wanted to—it was not her place and would destroy the fabric of time in the past should she act recklessly.

"Connor wasn't planning on _killing_ him, was he?" Angie said, deadpanned and her accomplice nodded weakly, her eyes falling to the shadows of the alley. The blonde sucked in a gust of air before grinding her teeth in frustration.

"Do you think this is funny, Sipsy? Boston Tea Party, sure, but you're supposed to see this guy _die_, too. Remember? '_Will to kill'_?" she gestured as if her friend was all kinds of handicapped. Tsipporah may bitch and moan when the day was done, but when things do not go as planned, Angie would slaughter. The novice bowed her head in shame, feeling that a part of this failure was her fault; beckoning herself not to cry. How long before the village will fall now?

"We must return to the carriage at once, ladies. The enemy has passed." Angie agreed to the queen's demands and headed back, but not without sending a dirty look to her friend's way. _That expression killed_. It was if she was skinning her alive with those blue, piercing eyes and left her to rot out in the sun. The discomfort of the gaze itself isn't what hushed her into obedience for the remainder of the day, but getting Angie angrier would be suicide. Inside the carriage, Marie tried to change the mood, but Angie kept to picking the dirt from her nails and Tsipporah kept her eyes out the window, waiting to go home to the Davenport manor.

"I am fully attentive to the verity of your given missions are strictly confidential. However, whatever the quarrel may be, it should be settled before more divergences take place."

"That's a nice suggestion… but just so you know, Marie, that when an assassin fails to kill his target in the Creed…" Angie cleared her throat, "the observer—" and pointed to her accomplice, "has to punish the shit out of him."

"Go fuck yourself, Angie. I'm no punisher."

"_Like shit you are_! I know I like to ride anything like a damn beast, but you, babe, are _fucking terrible_ at doing your job. I like to throw parties, but I thought it was celebratory for a minute there until I saw _William Johnson_ having a grand ol' time walking down the lanes of Boston! _You_ were supposed to aid your assassin in _killing_ that piece o' shit. Instead, you follow him around like a fucking sidekick and actually wanting to be bros with this guy."

"Angie…" Tsipporah gripped the bridge of her nose and sighed, "I'm nobody's sidekick and Connor's probably gonna get things done, anyway. Besides, you said that you're in love with Fillan, so what's the problem here?"

"I'm not in love with the assassin borne of a great legacy, _Tsipporah_," she exclaimed through clenched teeth, "which is part of the reason why I won't just screw around with just anyone. I may be the 'ho', but I'm the smart 'ho'." _Touché, blondie._ The other two women tried to wrap this whole conversation around their head well enough, but that resulted in a headache. The novice really wanted to go home now, but wasn't that ecstatic to see Connor again. If she should see him before her eyes she would scream—_there he was outside the window by an inn, speaking to a couple in about business._

"AAAAAAAHH!" she jumped in her seat and the other two women stared blankly.

"What?" Angie shouted back.

"Fuck…. Nothing…" the novice squeaked and wedged her head between her knees, wishing she would disappear.

* * *

"(Aghanashimi, do you not wish to open your eyes and see that what you accuse is false?)" The Clan Mother sat near the fire within the sturdy longhouse, gazing upon her so called 'daughter'. She had never sat with Clan Mother in a long time; not since Ratonhnhaké:ton was born. The native woman closed her eyes as she remembered that day and every day of her life since then. Ever since that speck came into the world, time and time again, she would try to kick him out of his cradle and toss him to the wolves, but Ziio was always there watching over him like the Creator's messenger would for her people. Then Kateri, her daughter, was born months later. She was truly disgusted of how her own flesh and blood would accept that half-breed as a member of the family, much less the tribe.

"(I will not accept that boy or that girl and you cannot make me.)" She scorned. "(Those feral outsiders killed my sister and my husband—scorched my daughter… they should have slaughtered Ratonhnhaké:ton for good measure—)"

"(Do not speak of words you will regret, my daughter. You have blinded yourself so much that you cannot see how the children of this tribe have grown to be fine men and women. You should rekindle the love you once had for them. If it is any time, let it be now.)" The woman did not change face. She really wanted to play lacrosse to be given the chance to pulverize the runt and perhaps teach her pitiful daughter a lesson. At least, now she'll see the plague in all her pathetic glory, but started to become cautious of why Ratonhnhaké:ton had set for this challenge in a few short days; to prepare, maybe? The residences of Davenport have no knowledge of playing their winter games.

"(We are solving our differences in a civil matter this time, Clan Mother. We shall play Snow Snake in five days, so I shall gather some men and women. Whoever wins shall decide the marriage between my daughter and that oaf she cares for so much.)"

"(You must do this in a civilized manner as well, otherwise Kateri will never turn back to you, but she must for you are her mother.)"

"(Why did you leave that trash to me to care for when Ziio died after all I did to grind his bones to dust?)"

"(Because you are better than that, Aghanashimi. You know what it means to be a mother, but your hatred for outsiders blind you. Your heart is full of love and aches so because of it, but you are afraid to share it with others. Remember how you met your husband?)" Of course she remembered. No matter how feisty she got, he was always there to save her from the English poachers in the forest when she was a young woman. Her heart belonged to her home, but he had come from Kahnawake with the chief of his village to speak to clan mother. She became emotionally constipated when he was in her presence and turned him away, cultivating a likeness in him for his stubbornness until she loved him more. Only after a few climatic turnabouts did he ask for her hand in marriage. It was then that she learned that he had loved her equitably, too, and her sister was there supporting her in every step of the way. _Everything was different now…_

Aghanashimi's beloved was killed alongside her sister those unfortunate souls that lived and breathed with her. It was the day she slowly rotted away. Presently, the native woman looked back to her elder with her eyes full of nostalgia. The old woman smiled, knowing that a soft affection still existed in this spiteful woman's chest.

"(He and my sister meant everything to me…)" she sniffed, tears falling from her eyes and asked, "(Ratonhnhaké:ton and that girl were the ones who saved the village from being bought, yes?)" the elder nodded. "(Why would they do that?)"

"(This is their home. The girl you speak of knows how much this land means to us and gave her aid. Last I heard she sustained some damages from fighting off the English. Perhaps she is not much of a plague as you describe her to be.)" Aghanashimi wagged her knee as she sat, thinking this whole thing over. She stilled hated them, that much is true; She wants Ratonhnhaké:ton dropped on his head, that much is true; but his stubbornness and heroic behavior confused her beyond anything else. For every time she beat him with a stick for speaking to her daughter or just breathing, he'd help her with chores. For every time she belittled him for existing, he tells her that she is much more than just her hatred; and for each day she argued with him on how she's the boss, he'd square her off by settling quarrels with a game. _(Damned pacifist…)_, she thought and left the longhouse to see men and women gathered into a small group, looking her way.

"(We believe that Kateri should marry)," one of the men replied, "(but you will need a team to challenge Ratonhnhaké:ton.)" the woman squinted her eyes.

"(Are you not on his side?)"

"(He has saved this village and protected us, but you cannot act alone, Aghanashimi. You are still a part of this village.)" The group ululated in rhythm that brought about a squall of tears to the stubborn woman, but sniffed them back and held a stern face.

"(In five days, we shall go to Homestead, Davenport and challenge Ratonhnhaké:ton with a game of Snow Snake. The winner shall decide the fate of my daughter's marriage while the loser stands down!)" And the crowd goes wild. They knew what was at stake and promised to fight honorably and mercilessly. When Christmas comes, they will have a party…

* * *

**And now we know what's gonna go down at the Christmas party. Gift giving, mistletoes, and freaking games! :D**

**Just thought I'd still bring the subject of Kateri's wedding in the story. Don't worry, all of this will connect in time. Besides, I can't keep the in-laws out, can I? Nope. In-laws hate that crap. Anyway, the next part is the last part for the Holidays Arc and then Captain Kidd for two chapters (maybe) and back to the main story where Connor finally goes back to slicing and dicing. Constipated romance included. Too bad, Tsipporah tries to pass if all off as bromance instead.**

**Anyway, again, I hope you guys are gonna have a happy holiday! Happy Winter Break! :D**


	11. Chapter 11: Holidays III

_"In the beginning, I was searching for myself in my music. My music was for me. I didn't have the mental room to be conscious of the listener; I wrote to save myself."_

-**Ayumi Hamasaki**

* * *

The air was still and the images of enemies surfaced the walls. Everything was in a constant blurring as if she, herself, was nothing but a ghost. The people kept moving and the birds kept flying; and the animals kept sleeping; and the sounds kept murmuring into nothing. Was this some kind of nightmare? Or was this some sort of nexus that collected saved data of her memories? Everything that her eyes saw was here. The people, the food, the friends, the foes, the clothes, the acts, the sequences, the words, the songs, the faces, the clothes, the acts, the faces, the people, the people the food the friends the foes the clothes the acts the sequences the words the songs the faces the clothes the acts the faces the peoplethepeoplethefoodthefri endsthefoestheclothestheacts thesequencesthewordsthesongs thefacestheclothestheactsthe facesthepeople00100010101000 0101000010000100010010000100 0001000100000010001001010001 0000001001001010100000001010 01010010101000 – 00010100010000111…

"You have collected a sufficient amount of data, Artemis." A tall, white figure stood over scanning through the eyes of the observer, watching closely at the sequences. "However, there are minor flaws you want to evade as the sequences progress." She turned to the shorter woman who looked as stern as ever, keeping her eyes to the ground and waited for her "boss" to explain. Pushing some holographic screens aside, the white figure approached the young woman and lifted her chin. She flinched at the touch, not sure what to make of it for it was neither warm nor cold.

"You must keep your emotions under control," her empty eyes bore into hers, "Nothing is certain about the correct—the true path that this assassin may follow, but whatever the cost, you must not take risks. He trained for years for this moment and we of the First Civilization must make certain of his survival. That is why we chose you."

The novice wanted to look away from the ghostly figure's eyes as she said this. Her eyes held nothing. There was no abyss leading into her sockets just… _nothing_. So much emptiness that her head began to ache because it could not see anything in them for it had absolutely no content to absorb. This might as well be a nightmare. The novice broke from the woman's grasp and squint her eyes as she returned the gaze, not wanting to hear her "advice" again. She knew full well that her native companion trained hard for some years to complete his task, but to go through the motions with no emotions…

"I know what I have to do, but I…" she stuttered and the white spirit was in no mood for excuses. She narrowed her eyes, silencing the girl from complaining any further.

"This sequence was his first chance to exterminate one of those who would endanger our sanctuary and take the Piece of Eden for themselves. If that were to happen, then all will be lost. Humanity would be at its end. He desires for his people to remain safe. Would you rather him _being destroyed_ along with his people?" The novice's eyes shot open, evident that tears were going to fall, but refused to with little effort. The spirit was making this harder than it really was by making this harder on the novice than it really was. She didn't want to do this…

"So you want me to punish him?"

"It is your duty to teach him more _mental_ discipline."

"No," she said, deadpanned, "I will not hurt him; mind or body and you can't make me."

"No matter. He shall learn to reap what he sows should he continue, but mark my words: his inactivity and yours will destroy everything."

_Then everything vanished to white._

Tsipporah shot up from her canopy bed and searched her current surroundings. It was her bedroom for sure despite the entire room being completely dark, so she felt her way out of the covers as she trembled like a newborn deer. Her rattling nerves were so sensitive that even the still air made her jump out of her skin. Making her way to the window, she specified what time of the night it was. The stars were still out and the sky was nearing a dark blue. It must be near four o'clock in the morning or so and the owls were still hooting restlessly. The novice sighed as her fingers pricked the window sill and her surreal dreams haunted her. It was every time that she was with her native companion would she have these dreams where the woman in white would come to her collecting her thoughts and picking at her memories, and then tell her what she has to do next.

The novice leaned forward at the panes, gazing up at the starry sky. Recalling those discomforting encounters, this strange woman—Juno—would invade her very mind and be told of things that no one else on earth knew. Even things that the Brotherhood knew about were divulged to her—things she didn't want to hear and hope that her native friends wouldn't find out. The young woman bit at her thumb-nail, praying that Clan Mother knew nothing of all that Juno told her. How would they look at her if they knew? Would they still welcome her as a 'sister'? Would they turn her away finally? If they knew of what Juno's been telling her, then they'll be forced to execute her on the spot.

"Tsipporah?" a husky voice echoed from behind the door. A few gentle knocks sounded at the doorway that alarmed the novice. Her heartbeat was out of tune and fumbled around in her chest. Just as she was excited to be on this adventure, she wanted to leave and forget this all happened. Tsipporah straightened up and tried to look for her lantern on the vanity table, her eyes adjusting to the blackness. She called out over her shoulder and fetched for the matches wherever the hell they were, and proceeded to fall backwards as she heard the door open on its own.

"What the hell, man? You can't just wait until I get the lantern?" she fussed. Connor narrowed his eyes, not interested in her ranting. Instead he walked in already clad in his assassin's uniform. The novice wrinkled her face and picked her nose tiredly.

"The fuck are you in costume for?"

"I was hunting. Why are _you_ up so early?"

"Bad dream. I was gonna stay up and draw, but then you walk in, so…"

"What do you draw exactly?"

"Nothing special, Ray; just art vomit." Connor wasn't sure how to respond to that and the novice rolled her eyes, avoiding the urge to laugh at his priceless expression. She waddled back to her canopy and swooped under the bed and pulled out her massive sketchbook, nervously, and extended it to the 'tree-hugger'. He gave her an indifferent look before taking it and searching through its contents as Tsipporah finally lit her lantern. Connor kept looking about the pages as if they were written in Chinese or something, not sure what to make of what he was looking at. The novice looked over his shoulder to see what bemused him and laughed, knowing that he knew nothing of surrealism… or caricatures.

"What's with that face, huh? You don't like how I draw?"

"No, it's not that," he wrinkled his face, "your… style is as complex as you."

"It's not complex, _it's art_—the reflection of one's soul on paper."

"Reflection of one's soul indeed for I know not what to make of this."

"…Oh, fuck you, man. Gimme my sketchbook back!" she grew flustered and tried to snatch her 'diary' from his hands, but frowned once he extended his arm over her head to fish for it. She frowned even deeper, seeing that his arms were much longer than hers.

"Gimme!" she jumped onto his torso, latching on with her arms and legs hooked around him. Connor stepped back, stupefied, as he was not expecting this form of retaliation and came in contact with the wall. Upon impact to the hard surface, the two stumbled to the floor and the art book flipped to its back pages on display for the world to see. Tsipporah sat in fetal position as she found that she landed on her hip, but Connor quickly recovered following a few seconds. Rubbing his neck, the naked pages caught the corner of his eye and he instinctively reached for it. On those secret pages laid bundled woodlands, crystal spheres, and a boy chasing a bald eagle. When he focused his eyes, he could see that the boy is… him?

"Hey!" the novice snatched at his hand, "Don't look at that—!"

"What is this?" he refused to give it back at this point and she could see it in his face. Oh, well, there was no point in keeping it a secret since she's here already. She's seen this image for many years before they first met so…

"Before I met you, I kept having this strange dream about a tribal boy running with an eagle. He was always in a blur, but I could still tell he was native. Nothing ever happens except I'm standing in the woodlands, animals are passing by, an eagle swoops by, and a young tribal boy chases after it. I didn't think anything of it, but then…"

"'_Then_'?" Connor came closer as she started to whisper.

"Then I came here…" she gestured to everything around her, "I never told anyone—not even Angie about this dream I kept having. All I know is that every time I wake up, I feel refreshed, but now I can't sleep." She crossed her arms and bowed her head to her chest, unable to feel any lethargy, and looked to her feet as she was ashamed of what she confessed.

"Do you still have this dream?" Connor asked as he returned the sketchbook to her hands, but the novice shook her head.

"Not since I met you," she just wanted to vanish from the spot as she felt that she was spilling her inner-most chambers of her heart to this young man. It felt like every word that spewed from her mouth had shed every last bit of tomboyish-vibe that's she's held up for quite some time. She wasn't very certain if her words carried a hint of weakness to Connor's ears, so she gathered some courage to look him in the face. Once her head lifted to see, she clutched at her sketchbook in her arms. His honeyed eyes were soft and focused on her, boring into hers strongly. Somewhat, Tsipporah remembered that look—that intense stare he gave her as they first lived in Davenport on the night they fought off bandits trying to break into the manor, and Achilles accepted them into the household. She fidgeted on the spot when she felt her chest light up and tingle.

"Are you really unsure of why you are here?"

"Are you gonna kill William Johnson any time soon?"

"That is none of your concern." He brushed her off, but she was not amused.

"_I _watch _you_, dipshit. Of course it's my concern! You can't just decide when you're _not_ gonna kill. You think this is a _free_ country? Well, guess what, it's not. There's always gonna be a time to kill and a time for peace, but until then, I'm-a be watching your pacifist ass make some heads roll and you're going to do it whether you like it or not! So… do what you will. Just make sure the Templars aren't breathing by the end of the century." She huffed and the quietness took over, but not 'til a subject nearly flew over her head.

"Who are those people down there in that new cabin anyway?" she asked. It took only a small number of hours to build their home in a couple of days. It was already the night before Christmas and Angie was at the Robber's place robbing him of his quenching thirst for desire. Thank God for that, but she could hear them shag from a mile away when they do. The new couple came in the 21st of December early in the morning to see their place being set up and by the lumberjacks, and the neighboring carpenter. Apparently, it was some sort of pub that was built. _Great_.

"Oliver and Corrine will be living in Davenport from now on. They will open a pub here and an inn for weary travelers. I told them of your Christmas festivities and offered their space once it is finished, which will be soon. I have already covered for most of the construction."

"Wow… thank you, Connor…" she held her hand against her chest, fighting the temptation to kiss and hug him, "How could I ever repay you?" she should kick herself for asking such a question because the look on her companion's face was that of a sinister children's book villain when they plotted.

"There is one thing that would be most helpful. Kateri's mother, my aunt will do everything in her power to make sure her daughter will not marry Kanen'tó:kon. We have agreed to settle this by challenging her to Snow Snake." Tsipporah blinked once, twice—somewhat thinking that this was the real reason he came to her so late from hunting. She sputtered a sigh and combed her hand through her messy curls. Snow Snake? She played that game at the Iroquois Historical Society when she first moved to New York. The old man there taught her the rules and how to play. A sideways slope would be molded from snow and the opponents would have to use a long stick or branch to slide and toss the stick against the slope; the one or team to have their stick thrown the farthest wins.

"In laws. Ain't that a bitch. Alright, I'll help since my throwing arm got better. Plus, I want Kateri to get married… (It would be saddening to see a beautiful couple such as them not marry because of Kateri's mother not wanting it. I want to see all of my friends happy this Christmas, so I will fight for her.)"

"(I am still surprised that you are able to speak the words of my people.)" Connor said as he went through the doorway with a sense of pride in his friend.

"(I am still surprised that you haven't gotten yourself a woman yet.)"

"(Have you a man?)" He glared over his shoulder and the novice shook her head.

"(Why? Would you be angry if I told you that I did—)" he already closed the door and his footsteps lead to his own room. The girl rolled her eyes, sensing some pressure points as she said her last statement. Was he embarrassed that he didn't have a girlfriend or something? Tsipporah shrugged her shoulders and recalled that she was still holding her sketchbook, so she slid it back under the canopy bed. She clawed at her chest again, feeling her heart flutter uncontrollably for it still remembered those eyes staring her down with power—power that overwhelmed her. The novice blew out the lantern and tried to calm her thoughts, closing her eyes in hopes of sleeping peacefully for the rest of the night.

* * *

The morning rays fell upon the Homestead that was veiled in pure whiteness that continued to rain in forms of crystals and ice. Some woke with a start, feeling the weather kick in with prickly chills, everyone scrambled to get their coats and coverage. The woods were finally quiet, thus the hunters of the frontier could not go about shooting for meats and furs and neither could the native subjects for they must respect the resting season of the forest creatures. Kanen'tó:kon swept himself in through the trees of his bride-to-be's current residence, eager to see her again though it has only been a number of days. He was content that she had followed her own path to stray from her controlling mother, but wanted her to be near him. Her having to leave with her cousin had left a gaping hole in his heart, but knew that she was better off this way. Ratonhnhaké:ton was better off as well away to train and to become strong enough to protect their home because he had always watched from afar as Aghanashimi would try with all her might to belittle and endanger him. On several occasions, did she leave him and himself in the forest and provoke a few bears to attack them. _Never again_.

"Kateri, my love, where are you?" Kanen'tó:kon called out in the silence of the wood. It was the part of the forest where Myriam and Alice resided to sell their surplus of furs and skins of the animals hunted. After a bundle of creaks, the cabin door opened, revealing a young native woman dressed in furs and pants of the colonials. Her hair was braided back into an up-do that proved to be creative due to its length, and her skin was as radiant as ever. She smiled and walked with a skip in her step as her fiancé smiled back.

"(Good morning, my darling!)" She took his face in her hands and kissed him sweetly.

"(Good morning to you as well.)" He broke the kiss taking her hands into his, watching each other romantically as their foggy breaths entwined. Kateri batted her lashes and took his lips into hers once more, but deepened the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck. This caught him off guard and broke it a tad faster than before.

"(Where did you…?)" He gasped.

"(Angie always did it that way with Fillan. I thought I should try it.)" Kanen'tó:kon gazed at her with his glazed eyes, wishing she'd show him more, but not out here.

"(Does your mother know of you learning these?)"

"(No. She would not want me to be friends with a 'harlot', a 'half-breed', a 'black plague', and marry an 'oaf', so I won't tell.)"

"(Good because that would put a big stake in our wedding night.)"

"(If there will be a wedding night…)"

"(Do not worry my sweet, we will have a wedding and your mother will have to acknowledge all that you do and what you have chosen. Ratonhnhaké:ton and I along with others will challenge Aghanashimi to Snow Snake. We shall not lose.)" Kateri buried her head into his chest, laughing, and looked up to her fiancé once more with hope in her eyes. He has come a long way from running from bears and wolves to actually facing them. She was proud of her future-husband no matter what her mother had to say about it, but as it is their custom, the final decision in marriage is always up to the mother of the family.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton! Tsipporah!" Alice jumped out of the embrace of Kanen'tó:kon when she saw her best friends come her way and the novice shook her head.

"(I think you've spent too much free time with my friend, Kateri. I'm afraid of what you try on your wedding night…)"

"(If there is a wedding to be had—)"

"(We have that taken care of, Kateri. There is no need to worry.)" Connor assured, but his observer fussed at the thought. Playing a game in order to secure a decision of marriage? If making peace and agreements was this easy in life, the wars in the coming centuries wouldn't last for a day.

"(Ratonhnhaké:ton, do the people here know of Snow Snake?)" His childhood friend asked and got a shake of the head in return.

"(I explained of the game to them as they are hard workers, so sliding a branch far enough should not be a problem.)"

"So what about Christmas tomorrow, guys? I hope you're bringing gifts!" Tsipporah whiplashed the subject of games and Alice jumped at the mention of the party, rambling on how she's worked so hard on everyone's gifts and that she has a special surprise to show off at night. The novice, too, explained that the French Queen had gotten her something as an early Christmas gift, but wasn't going to tell anyone and show it off tomorrow as well. Connor could care less what the surprise was for he wasn't one for festivities. To ensure that everything goes right, but as for participating in them, he would stay in a lonely corner, planning other important things for the coming months. Kanen'tó:kon understood his friend's aloofness during celebrations and that he most likely won't join his possible wedding reception for the Great Feather Dance, regrettably.

"Well, I'm off, since I got nothing to do but walk around," the girl waved and turned to leave. Really, there was nothing else to do. The girls had spent all day yesterday shopping for gifts and the new innkeeper had a Christmas tree set up with capped candles and ornaments while the carpenter had a painted, golden star made. Wreaths were decorated on everyone's door and the manor was fully clothed in the holiday spirit to Achilles' joy or dismay. The gifts themselves were set aside in everyone's homes, wrapped and ready to be given away to their designated receivers. Tsipporah figured that this would be the perfect time to speak to Peg-leg about Captain Kidd's treasure and his mention of the Ancient Mayan Ruins. After seeing the movie _Apocalyto_, she really wanted to visit the ruins in real life even if was during the 18th century.

"Where are you going?" Connor called out, curious.

"On a treasure hunt, tree-hugger!" she called back, waving her palm, and advancing forward to the docking area where Peg-leg was. Connor shrugged his shoulders, knowing that that girl can never stay still for anything. Once she was out of things to do, she'd look for something fun to do. The lovely, native couple laughed, seeing that he wasn't going to go after her and suggested that he should. The assassin was reluctant and decided to go back into the manor to see his mentor who had been silent for some days as everyone scrambled for the holiday party the next day. As he ventured through the interior, he spotted the old man in his sitting room where he would print and write.

"Achilles?" Connor knocked on the doorway post to signify his polite entrance. The old man looked up from his desk and gave a quick look to the empty wall behind him before turning back to his student.

"Connor. Good timing; I was just musing on something you could do for me."

"What is it?"

"I have left something deep inside a cave on the cliff sides of this area and I would like for you to retrieve for me. I suppose your observer would enjoy the excursion, seeing that she takes delight in finding hidden or lost things." Connor couldn't agree more. She is still so eager to find clues to an ancient ruin that is probably eroded away with time.

"What exactly am I to search for?"

"It is a wrapped painting I used to keep on this wall here," he pointed to the empty wall behind him. There was a large, rectangular clean spot that said that something used to be there. "It has been a long time since I last looked at it and I would appreciate if you had it returned to this room." Connor nodded. The old man had to say no more for the youth went straight out the door on this quest. He bring along his observer to help him since she made finding the location Marie Antoinette was staying for the rendezvous easy to trace. He came about the docking area where the novice was speaking to Peg-leg still, intrigued by the trade she's made, turning to Connor and waved a ripped piece of paper.

"Hey, Connor, look!" she jumped up and down, happily, "It's a piece of Captain Kidd's map!"

"Stay your anticipation, Tsipporah. The old man had a favor to ask of us and I need you to help me."

"Help you? With what, Connor?" she blinked, a little nosy as to what it was.

* * *

The two climbed the cliff-sides of the frontier that were proven to be quite slippery due to the overwhelming amount of snow. How on earth was the hooded assassin able to cling to the rocks, anyway? This skill baffled the young novice as they back-jetted the stony walls to reach the other side. Thank goodness she knew where she was going with a compilation of riddles that Achilles had left to Connor. In fact, they were coordinates that were scrambled and written in invisible ink. _How very Brotherhood of him_… The youths finally pulled up onto a cavern-like hole in the cliff and looked about its structure. Tsipporah took up her lantern that was kept on her hip and lit it to look around.

"Yep," she bit her lip and nodded approvingly, "Definitely the work of a good climber." Her back was slightly killing her thanks to nearly falling several times.

"It is a wrapped painting we are looking for and he hid it where no one can reach."

"Thirty-five steps… north?" she squinted her eyes at the directions, wondering if she was reading wrong, but it couldn't be. She has solved and cracked every code that was thrown at her, but knew that north had to forward… or up? Giving up half-heartedly, she went with her gut and decided to go forward by thirty-five steps. There were some rocks tumbling under their feet as they went ahead and both almost tripped because of their dampness from the snow. The novice huffed angrily at the struggle and stopped once they reached the maximum amount of steps, looking around.

"Huh…" Connor chucked a festered sigh, "it said 'north', you say? We must have taken the wrong route."

"You always seem to doubt my skills…" she cooed and looked in all directions, guessing that this wrapped painting was against the walls or something. Connor leaned against the rocky texture; pondering about where else this painting could be and felt a drop of water fall on his cheek. He wrinkled his nose and looked up, seeing something dangling from the rough stalactites. It was large and rectangular, wrapped in animal skins and mixed fabrics.

"There!" he called and searched for the crevices in the walls to reach up. Luckily, some strong branches stood up against the walls and moved upward towards the goal. The novice held her search and saw after Connor that her second guess was correct this whole time, kicking herself for not thinking outside the box. After a struggle, Connor managed to hoist himself up to retrieve it, passing it down to his aide. She cooed and clenched her hands around the work, curious to see what was inside, but the assassin stayed her hand.

"We must bring as it is. It is not our place to look at it."

"Fine. I wasn't going to…" the girl admitted, bouncing in her step as they left the premises and the way down wasn't going to be fun at all. As she looked down, her acrophobia crept into her nerves, rattling them with uncertainty. Connor followed her eyes to the far off grounds and scoffed.

"Ladies first?"

"Fuck you, Connor…" she gulped as she stared at the ground that seemed farther than it really is. The assassin swept his hand over his head and weaved them around her waist, earning a squeak from her. She stayed still against his body and gripped the painting even tighter, feeling as though the tears in her eyes would spill.

"You're gonna go out on a limb here and synchronize a leap of faith, aren't you?"

"Close your eyes if you're afraid."

"No! That makes me a pu—_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH _!"

Connor threw both of them off the Cliffside from 60 ft. of compiled rocks into a large pile of forest rubbish and soft snow. The feeling of falling from great heights brought about exhilaration to the hooded youth. It was as if he was flying and swooping to the ground for a perfect landing after he's seen the entirety of his surroundings. He broke from his thoughts as he realized that the novice was shrieking a terrible scare in his arms as she held onto him and the painting for dear life. Once they landed into the rubbish, he motioned to let her go, but her hands gripped onto his sleeves still and released the painting from her arms. On the ground, he tried to stand, but the novice wouldn't free him so easily. Looking closely at her face and body, she was scared out of her mind. Her entire bodice trembled and her eyes she shut tight, still waiting for the fall to end.

"Tsipporah, are you alright?" he placed his hand under her chin to see her face.

"No… don't… D-Don't ever do t-that again…" she stammered in shock, trying to get a hold of herself, but couldn't. She still wasn't used to dropping from the sky it seemed and got past the whole 'don't look down' segment, but the leap of faith was beyond her. A streak of guilt came across her native companion as he looked at her. She was not crying, mad, nor saddened, but scared for dear life. He brought her closer to him and brushed her cheek against his.

"Forgive me for I was not aware of this fear, but you've climbed these cliffs before—"

"The high jumps down still scare me…" she gulped, "and I always had people climb with me." She was so shaken up that even her body wouldn't let out a tear. Her muscles recoiled into a spasm she hasn't felt in a while and couldn't stand up.

"I will carry you and the painting, just—"

"N… No," she released her firm clutch, her voice trembling, "I-I sh-should w-walk it off since we're a-already at t-the bot-bottom."He gave her a pitiful look and she retorted weakly. "D-Don't give m-me that l-look—look, hero. I-I'm nineteen, s-so I should t-toughen up…" she stumbled a few times before succeeding in a full stance. Taking a few steps forward, she nearly tripped and slowly walked at her normal pace. Connor got up easily now, coming after her with the painting in hand, wondering if she was ever going to forgive him for doing this to her. He had always thought that she had some sort of man-ish wit about her, but now he is seeing a whole new side to her—_a scared little girl_.

* * *

"That was so fucking stupid, Connor," Angie accused and pointed her finger. The novice had to rest for the remainder of the day because as their little misadventure sent her into a minor shock, a panic attack ensued later on. Angie explained that she flew off of a roller-coaster (some contraption he wasn't knowledgeable of) when she was eleven and was afraid of falling from large heights ever since. It wasn't a petty fear, but to the novice, it was one that had to be utterly conquered. The native man wasn't sure of what to say since his friend won't see him. The last he saw of her was just wrestling and screaming… and many, many falling tears before night enveloped homestead.

"I understand if she won't forgive me."

"She probably will. '_To err is human; to forgive, divine_.'"Angie shrugged, knowing her friend wasn't one to hold a grudge. "She decided to help you, and helping you out in itself is suicide, but you know what? Christmas is tomorrow and your cousin is cooking the turkey and bringing some corn. I can't wait to eat some food and get some gifts. Speaking of which, Tsipporah was making you something. I think she'll finish it tonight."

"What?!" he snapped, "She must rest!"

"She's just like that to all her friends, Connor, she'll be fine." He wasn't too sure of those words. The novice had to rest for the day and his aunt would come the next morning to challenge him for Kateri's fate and marriage. Whether she would join the game of Snow Snake did not matter to him now. He prayed for her to get better. Once Angie left the manor to Fillan's cabin, Connor went to dispatch the recovered item to Achilles' office, but even as night fell, the old man hadn't dared to touch even a hair of it. His student furrowed his brows, wondering why it was untouched.

"I am not yet ready to set my eyes on it. When the time is right, I will open it and have it set on the wall."

"I understand."

"I understand that the observer had a bit of a shock this morning. I send my condolences to her. A panic attack of her magnitude should only last for half the night or so. She might not be able to eat tonight." Sighing despondently, the youth turned and went through the doorway to return his assassin suit to the basement. Down the stairs, he heard a thud sounding off from below the floors and stopped halfway of the stairwell. He sneered and hurried to the first floor, opening the passage of the hidden basement. Venturing down the short set of stairs, he found a crouched body huddling something.

"You are supposed to be resting." He shook his head disapprovingly at his novice as she worked on something with shaky hands. She is still in shock, he suspected and tried to lift her from the ground, but kept getting pushed away.

"No! I gotta finish this!" she nailed herself to the ground as her ceramic devices were out to use. Her native companion had no patience for this and plucked her from the spot, oddly angering her further as he threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She tried kicking him, but it had little effect.

"Ugh! Come on! At least let me get my things!"

"I will put you to bed and retrieve them for you."

"I put my own art supplies away! No fucking way you're touching my stuff!"

"This argument is pointless, Tsipporah. You cannot work as you are now."

"Of course I can! I painted with my left hand when I sprained my right wrist once."

"It's not the same; your nerves are out of control."

"Artists work when they're out of control, you moron!" Connor shook his head, knowing that he could not fully dissuade her.

* * *

The air was filled with a mist of holiday spirit and clear snow that made travel easier to manage. Some outside hunters found refuge in the new inn and some discounts to stay for the night since it was Christmas Day. Happily, on this day in the early morning, the member of the Brotherhood had a church built almost overnight now that an English preacher decided to live in Homestead, preferring the open countryside and the people were in need of mass. It did not put a dent in the party plans, though, since the mass would take place in the late afternoon. Everyone was cheery this morning, knocking on each other's doors and wishing them a Merry Christmas. Some neighbors resorted to caroling, which stopped upon the manor, when Achilles gave a disgruntled look at Terry and Godfrey for coming on his doorsteps with that nonsense, warding them off.

The obnoxious scene woke the novice with a start and recalled her unrecovered items from the basement and scrambled down the stairs, ramming into the old man at the bottom of the stairs. She was knocked back even more due to his tough stature despite his age. The girl spewed a wry laugh before shutting to silence.

"I see you're in the holiday spirit."

"Actually, I was wondering if my stuff was still down there."

"Why, yes. Scattered and disorganized like yourself, just as you left it. Connor respected you wishes to not lay a single finger on them."

"Ah…" she replied and went down to check herself, not trusting just words. As he said, they were just as she left them last night. The novice internally squealed in delight, taking the untouched box to wrap it in great care. She was thankful that her native companion had not seen this gift or dared to peek at it.

In the woodlands, approaching the light countryside was a group of neighboring natives walking along the snowy grounds and facing forward, aware of their actions to come. They were to seal the marriage of their own and would do it with honor. Well, some of them. A woman who led the group would do it for spite for she hated just about everything her daughter was doing to her: leaving the tribe, befriending outsiders, and adopting their customs. She wrinkled her face at the thought and brushed it away, keeping her head up. As she threaded further, a small pack of wolves circled them and her eyes retorted them to disperse… which they did. They remembered her—the wolf slayer.

Once Homestead was in view, her sick smile lengthened and sprinted to the gates. The followers were caught off guard and ran alongside her, but her speed was unmatched and she darted so quickly that she broke the hatches off the wooden gate. The noise even alarmed some sleeping animals and some joyous residents, believing that the English are attacking them. When they looked out to see, they watched as a group of natives formed outside the Davenport manor, hollering for one of their own to show up to them. Angie and Fillan peeked from their doors, watching as the naturals cheered and whooped. They looked to each other and proceeded to go back inside to cloth themselves as they were both stark naked. After a few more minutes of their noise, Connor rubbed his sleepy eyes and answered the door to see his spiteful aunt and some men and women of his tribe. Kanen'tó:kon ran from the party to his friend's side as they were to face Aghanashimi.

"As promised, I am here, half-breed." She crossed her arms, but her nephew would not let her have her way. He went down the steps clad in his assassin suit until he was a few feet away from her stance. He wasn't taken aback by the amount of team members she gathered, but feared for his cousin's fate and this woman's unwavering determination to mold it as she pleased.

"And as promised, we will have our game." He nodded to the direction of a slope that was shaped by some early birds with a pile of sticks lying in wait. The woman pursed her lips and swayed to the pile, taking a thick branch in her palm. At the corner of her eye, her daughter enveloped in knitted furs marched along the dirt road, carrying two buckets full of thick, colored paints. Once the two came face to face, Kateri took a handful of red paint and reached out for her mother's face.

"(So you came…)" she wiped her fingers across the other's cheek.

"(I came for you.)"

"(No, mother, you came for you. You always have.)" Her eyes glazed with memories.

"(My goal is always your goal; remember that, Kateri. Whether you like it or not, I am your mother. I will control your destiny even you choose to not be with me.)" Kateri bit her lip, as if she knew her next words would be words she would later forget.

"(How is your heart, by the way? If not crushed by that oaf, it would certainly be crushed by my foot—)" Her daughter landed a solid blow to her painted face with an open palm and pulled out her hunting knife to carve her bitterness into her chest, but her cousin intervened, staying her hand while her fiancé wrapped his arms around her to calm her spirits. Just as this took to play, the players of Homestead came to join as the novices did.

"Alice!" Tsipporah, Marie, and Angie called out as they saw her being pulled away like a mental-patient going through the swings. Connor released his hold and swiftly took his cousin's knife before she would perform something she would rue and Kanen'tó:kon held her close.

"I should have killed you!" Kateri pointed a deathly warning, "Connor has done nothing but favors for you and you still spit at his face, and mine!" she cried into her beloved's shoulder and gripped at his chest. Her mother only shook her head, disappointed in her daughter's naïveté and went to the icy slope where the sticks laid in ready for use.

"Shall we have our game… _Connor_?" she spat at his English name, "You and your black whore better not waste my time." The novice's ears whipped upwards as her 'name' was called on by a petty insult that she did not like. What was worse was that she was called something that barely fitted her description. She hated that sort of ignorance about someone she's barely even met and stepped in front of her gang.

"_'Black whore'_? Well, excuse me Miss Thang, bringing in the time of the Trail of Tears so fast up in this peaceful part of the frontier—"her assassin pulled her back for a physical fight with Aghanashimi was surely an inevitable death match. The teams went to paint their faces for their designated colors. Homestead: blue; Natives: red. Once they did their faces, each team rotated to get a stick from one pile and waited on the side for their leaders to throw first. The assassin and the dragon lady went up first, and red team had to pitch the first throw. The woman's stick practically flew until it almost hit a tree that lay on the other side of the lake. Connor's throw, in the novice's eyes, was lucky for the stick reached a draw in distance to his aunt's. That was a draw for both teams… until the other teammates were up. Sure, they were strong and skillful, but their throw and aim was weak, and some received a few splinters from the branches they were holding. The only ones who managed to get a shot further were Kanen'tó:kon whereas the rest tried the best they could, but it wasn't enough. Should the blue team lose, Kateri would lose her chance of happiness in Kanen'tó:kon things were looking hopeless.

"What is this?" the old man came out from his patio to his front steps, seeing people gathered that were cheering or collectively sounding discouraged. Connor stepped up to explain that the game was almost over to his cousin's dismay. Achilles gave a half-smile.

"One more throw is all we need to win, but…"

"Have I taught you nothing, boy?" he walked up to the group and quickly painting his face, picking up and steadying the stick against the side-slope, focusing. He readied his stance and swung in his hips and shoulders, releasing the think branch through the air and far into trees where it supposedly vanished into the woodlands, past Aghanashimi's and her team's throws combined. The red team stood, stupefied, as did the blue team, and the old man stepped back like it was literally nothing.

"Are you done nosing about my land, Aghanashimi? If you're not here to make peace or take back your words from years ago about your sister, then I suggest you leave before I get out of retirement just for you." And Achilles turned on his heel to look at his student, thinking it ridiculous to have this trivial game played in the quiet countryside. The residents scratched their heads, not sure what to make of the situation until Faulkner spoke out with a drink in hand.

"The blue team has won thanks to old man Achilles! Here, here!" he toasted to the victor and the novice bit at her cheek, trying not to laugh. "Aye, I'll drink to that!" the men of Homestead agreed, but not without congratulating Kanen'tó:kon and Kateri on their right to marriage now. Alice gave a relieving sigh and embraced her future husband, but her mother was not amused at all. The rest of the natives held up their honor and respected the team's unsuspecting win. Aghanashimi wouldn't have it.

"I shall respect your wishes, daughter, but—"

"Mother… enough of this," Alice waved her arms, "stay for dinner—the party, but this quarrel that you have against everyone I love must end. You cannot keep treating us like this."Her mother swayed in place as she looked from the old man to the half-breed, discontent with how her ensured victory was crushed in the blink of an eye. Of course she knew the old man on the hill, who taught her and her sister English for the first time, but lost taste in timely visits after Ziio grew so close to… Haytham Kenway. She knew there was love; however, she let him go about the wrong road that would destroy their tribe. Aghanashimi would've excused herself, declining to her daughter's invitation until Connor gave her a look he would give his victims as he hacked his hatchet into them.

"These men and women of the tribe will need to go back, but… since the old man won your game; I suppose I can stand with the outsiders."

* * *

Before the natives receded to Kanatahséton, they congratulated the other team as well as the old man on the hill, gripping their arms with everyone for a good game and left Aghanashimi alone to speak with her daughter. Honestly, the woman had nothing to say to her. She wanted her life to be mended by her will and nothing more except to rid herself of her nephew. Kateri was more than ready to converse, not being afraid or instilled with murderous hatred since there was nothing else to be angered of; the only thing to look forward to would be the Christmas party in the evening, so the neighbors dispersed to either mass or to prepare for later festivities. The girls and the native men receded to allow the mother and daughter to speak with each other until night fell. Until then, the men would converse on future plans as the women spoke of how the wedding will be like. Marie had Tsipporah try on the new, lightly mint-colored dress that was bought a few days ago, along with heels, pomade, and rouge (shoes, hair-styling gel, and blush).

"Why are you dolling me up? I won't be able to walk down the stairs with this…"

"But you'll look ravishing." Marie smiled brightly, but the novice deviated.

"Ok, you're the fashionista; I believe in you, but be forewarned: my hair cannot be molded or tamed." The French Queen threw her head back in laughter, but the novice was serious about her stiff curls that many hair dressers gave up on. When her winter coating fully came off, the queen was faced with the novice's detailed tattoo of the Creed's insignia. She was truly intrigued by how different the style was compared to the realistic, classical paintings that hung in her parlor of Versailles. Her fingers traveled down the spine, feeling at the fabulous work of art that supported a patriotic theme. The contact broke when Tsipporah realized that the queen was touching her ass.

"Whoa! Marie! Not this Christmas. You're cool, but if you touch me like that without my permission, I'm going to federal prison for manslaughter." Angie sat on the canopy bed as if she didn't see anything, whistling to the air as she tugged her party shoes on.

"Forgive me," she pulled the dress on and circled around to lace the front in place, "A thousand pardons. It is just that you are so… handsome and—"

"Your husband ain't giving you any, I get it. Can't be without it for even two days—I get it." She looked to her other blonde companion and knew. Marie Antoinette would spend the next seven years without consummating her marriage and had several other lovers on the side since she was fed up with the anti-climactic nights. Her days were full of gambling, partying hard, and flirting, but that time was to make up for the uneventful nights. People spread rumors of how she does nothing but this and cares nothing for her people when in reality, all that responsibility is to the king and she was almost no political power. The novice tried not to frown at this, knowing that the strawberry blonde before her was to be beheaded before the century's end by the hands of her own people. Once the dress was on and the struggle with the hair was finished, the girls headed down the stairs where the old man was, tapping his cane impatiently.

"Well, it's about time. You girls used up a lot of precious time to look… precious."

"Achilles…if I wasn't a Christian…" the novice hissed as much as she could for she was wearing a corset. It was no joke. She almost couldn't breathe and Achilles could see it, earning a small smirk from his side.

"Connor and the others wait outside. The sun has set an hour ago and the stars are out. Alice says she has a surprise to share, whatever it may be." He opened the door for all to leave, which Tsipporah comically tried with all her might. The dress is beautiful, yes, but bountiful in the most infuriating ways and the observer turned sideways through the door, watching the old man out of fear that he would trip her in all of this madness. When her entire body was out on the patio, the others followed, but her heart felt as if it had stopped when she saw what Connor had on. It was a naval uniform, no doubt, but had more of a colonial-formal fashion to it with the knickers and all. When he was done adjusting his gloves, he turned to the awestruck novice and his eyes slightly widened at the sight of her. Half of his shock was from the notice of the fact that she was wearing a dress, but not any dress—a formal outing attire. Her untamed hair was pulled away from her face; revealing more of her swan-like neck and defined facial features that would hinder any passing man with a strong will; and her lashes… he didn't even know how naturally long they were until now.

"Hey, tree-hugger," she directed, "ready to have '_smashing good fun'_?" and mimicked an English accent that snapped the native from his thoughts, remembering who he was dealing with. Connor pinched the bridge of his nose and looked upon the girl once more, thinking twice before deciding on complimenting her appearance and lack of mannerism.

"Shall we be off?" he offered his arm, poker-faced, and the young madam curtsied.

"Why certainly, kind sir," she wrapped her hand around his arm and… felt how firm his muscles were. Sure, he's held her before, but at times she was either tired or sick. She kept squeezing his biceps teasingly as they came to the inn; fascinated at how it was twice its size from when he was fourteen. Angie and Marie bit their lips at their friend's action and the man's inaction to resist, while the old man smirked at the novice's childishness. Once they came to the entrance of the inn, Fillan bowed his head and opened the door for them, taking Angie before she left inside.

"So where's my gift, love?" he brought her close to kiss her and she giggled.

"You'll get yours after the party, I promise."

Inside the large wooden cabin were stringed-wreaths entwined with pine leaves, hollies, and mistletoes. The tables were organized the best they could be with bright red poinsettias and saved roses alongside green ivy; and lit candles that created an inviting feel with a romantic touch to boot. Then as the group walked in further, there were the residents and Aghanashimi admiring the Christmas tree. It was decorated in the most extravagant way possible thanks to Marie. The tall pine tree stood having some flowers here and there, ginger-bread-men hooked from each crevice and branch, candy canes hung from every leaf, ribbons and German dolls sitting in some places with candle ornaments to emphasize its presence, but lacked a finishing ornament on top. Myriam and Alice, who wore plain white dresses with red sashes and holly in their hair as the other women did, turned and saw the honored guests and scurried towards them, but Myriam stopped.

"Well," she crossed her arms, "that's start." Angie moved to her side at the puzzled ones of the Brotherhood and Achilles bumped Connor's shoulder as he was still in the doorway. Tsipporah stood confused as ever until she looked at what hovered over her head as well as Connor's. Her eyes sunk into her sockets as she realized what was looming over their heads—a mistletoe. Her native companion couldn't comprehend what to make of this, but the novice had it in her mind to move away before the crowd got any ideas. Marie tugged her back under with such force, eager to see what would happen next.

"Why is everyone staring?" he really didn't know. Maybe she should run _now_.

"Connor, you really do not know?" Alice crossed her arms and the other troll-faced. "When two people have a mistletoe plant presently over their heads, they must kiss for it will bring about peace between the two."No Alice, it will bring about the exact opposite. Connor and Tsipporah looked at each other with a disgruntled look exchanged, causing Aghanashimi to laugh heartily. She guesses that perhaps they weren't involved with each other after all and her nephew was still a stingy virgin. The innkeeper's wife, Corrine, had enough of this adolescent tension and threw her hands in the air anxiously.

"Either you two kiss and get it over with, or have the rest of your years be filled with unhappiness."

"Come now, my friends," Kanen'tó:kon nodded to them both, "it is to ward off evil spirits. We would not wish for such misfortune on a beautiful night, would we?" The two misfits really didn't want that type of encouragement. In fact, it looks like the party won't start unless they take note to the given demands. _Phooey_…

Tsipporah gestured Connor to turn to face her, but he wasn't too keen on doing so. It wasn't peer pressure that led her on; she just wanted the party to commence. Besides, how bad was this going to be? Connor's handsome and muscular, and not so much of a bad guy when you take away the fact that slaughters like a berserker. She tilted her head up to see his eyes look into hers and suddenly had the urge to stop as her nerves shriveled up. Her male companion saw the hesitation in her face and lifted her head by her chin, and for once, an innocent-like glint sparked in her eyes. She's obviously never done this before and neither did he, but it didn't get in his way of closing in on her plump, painted lips…

* * *

**You may all hate me for this cliffhanger, but I realized after a word count that I typed over 9000-which is way past my maximum limit. I think I had way too much fun building up to the party, so this ended up happening. Anyway, I'm off to Art Basel Miami to look at galleries and winter break is coming, so more free time for me. Final exams are almost over and the story is coming back to the plot line after a few excursions of Captain Kidd's Treasure, Kateri's and Kanen'tó:kon's Wedding, and the Ancient Mayan Ruins. All in two chapters, then surprise: William Johnson is back with a... comeback. Back to Templar killing! Whoo! See you next time!**

**And thanks for following. :D**


	12. Chapter 12: Clandestine

_"Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself - and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is."_  
**- Jim Morrison**

* * *

Tsipporah gestured Connor to turn to face her, but he wasn't too keen on doing so. It wasn't peer pressure that led her on; she just wanted the party to commence. Besides, how bad was this going to be? Connor's handsome and muscular, and not so much of a bad guy when you take away the fact that slaughters like a berserker. She tilted her head up to see his eyes look into hers and suddenly had the urge to stop as her nerves shriveled up. Her male companion saw the hesitation in her face and lifted her head by her chin, and for once, an innocent-like glint sparked in her eyes. She's obviously never done this before and neither did he, but it didn't get in his way of closing in on her plump, painted lips…

"Merry Christmas, lassies and lads!" an obnoxious duo of Santa Clauses clad in bright red rammed through the doorway, knocking the novice off of her feet and rolling about in her insurmountable dress; and left a dumbfounded Brotherhood member back into neutral position. The novice would kick their ass—she would—but getting up from the ground only resulted in rolling further away from the door and the party-goers laughed at the sight until the native woman visiting picked her up… and pushed her down to roll around some more.

"Augh! I can't stop! Damn it, dragon lady! Angie! Alice! Pick me up!" none of this seemed funny at all to the victim and even Connor covered his mouth should he break his stoic façade. The French Queen and Angie looked to each other, then the ground, and proceeded to roll around as well, occasionally bumping each other and the unfortunate novice until the Santa Clauses interrupted.

"Well, would you look at that, Terry! We brought the holiday cheer just by walking through the door!" Godfrey clutched his fake, round belly and laughed contently as did Terry who constantly fixed his wooly, white beard.

"That wasn't cheerful at all!" Tsipporah finally got back on her feet as the others followed, "You knocked me from the mistletoe." Godfrey and Terry stroked their fake beards and looked to the doorway that held the said mistletoe, looked to Connor under it, and stared back to the novice—_troll-faced_.

"_Oh, ho_! Sorry to spoil your moment, Sipsy. Not too late to lay it on ol' Connor here, now is it?" She responded with furious eyes and went to the bar to fetch a drink, and most likely a strong one. The two men frowned.

"Worry not, gentlemen. She is merely going through the motions for we are still in troubled times." Connor assured and the men cracked a smile, going by the doorway and dragging out a large, heavy sack. The men hollered that they went about everyone's yard collecting the gifts that were to be left out on their yards hours before the party and lifted the sack off of the floor with all their might, taking out gifts one by one and placed them all under the decorated tree. Everyone—well, almost everyone—felt their hearts skip as an abundance of finely crafted papers and boxes wrapped in luxurious velvet spilled out under the Christmas tree, each wondering who got them looked over everyone's shoulders, a little envious at the quantity of presents the neighbors had for each other and felt a little out of sorts. She began to wonder why her daughter wanted her to stay behind anyway. She already won her right to marry, so what more could she want?

"Hold yer horses, ladies and gents!" Godfrey and Terry said in unison as they waved their hands to halt the oncoming crowd of grabby party-goers.

"We still have a party to commence," he nodded to the novices and they stood to get everyone's attention. Angie, of course, dressed as the other women with their white dresses and red sashes. Only, her dress was more velvet in material and her sash had holly patterning, shining in the light along with her hair having Christmas roses and crafted stars. Tsipporah was still trying to figure out how she managed to get glittering eye-shadow in the 18th century, but other than that it was rouge cheeks and pink lip dye.

"We would like to start off with a song," Angie announced, "Now, I know you guys don't have this style yet, but… Sipsy?"The other novice stepped forward, still trying to manage on her heeled shoes that Marie bought her and tried to breathe, so she loosened the lace on her dress a bit and tied it back on. Once she had air in her lungs, she turned and nodded to her friend that she was ready. Angie mouthed 'start', and Tsipporah gave a huff with a sassing, broad-way like pose as she stood and began:

_I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There's just one thing I need  
I don't care about the presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree  
I just want you for my own  
More than you could ever know  
Make my wish come true  
All I want for Christmas is...  
You _

Angie had joined in along with Alice and Myriam playing the piano that jazzed up the dulcet tone into something more up-beat—something everyone wasn't truly prepared for:

_I don't want a lot for Christmas_  
_There is just one thing I need_  
_(and I) Don't care about the presents_  
_Underneath the Christmas tree_  
_I don't need to hang my stocking_  
_There upon the fireplace_  
_(ahhh) Santa Claus won't make me happy_  
_With a toy on Christmas day_  
_I just want you for my own_  
_More than you could ever know_  
_Make my wish come true_  
_All I want for Christmas is you... You baby_

_Oh I won't ask for much this Christmas_  
_I won't even wish for snow_  
_(and I) I'm just gonna keep on waiting_  
_Underneath the mistletoe_  
_I won't make a list and send it_  
_To the North Pole for Saint Nick_  
_(ahhh)I won't even stay awake to_  
_Hear those magic reindeer click_  
_'Cause I just want you here tonight_  
_Holding on to me so tight_  
_What more can I do_  
_Baby all I want for Christmas is you_  
_You baby_

_Oh all the lights are shining_  
_So brightly everywhere (so brightly baby)_  
_And the sound of children's_  
_Laughter fills the air (oh)_  
_And everyone is singing (oh yeah)_  
_I hear those sleigh bells ringing_  
_Santa won't you bring me the one I really need -_  
_Won't you please bring my baby to me..._

_Oh I don't want a lot for Christmas_  
_This is all I'm asking for_  
_I just want to see my baby_  
_Standing right outside my door_  
_Oh I just want you for my own_  
_More than you could ever know_  
_Make my wish come true_  
_Baby all I want for Christmas is_  
_You_

_All I want for Christmas is you baby..._

After that came the festivities and the neighbors would occasionally grip the novices' shoulders on such great entertainment they provided and that they've never heard such a beautiful song in their entire lives. Alice's mother gave a dramatic slow clap, now aware of her daughter's musical talent. She supposed that's what happens when one chooses to live amongst outsiders. They shared a drink and reconciled as much as they could, and the dragon lady went as far as to calling Connor over for something private, sending her daughter away to enjoy some pleasantries with her fiancé. Her nephew hesitated, but it did not show and walked over to his aunt anyway.

"I want you to know something, my son," she started as she made eye contact, "The elders may know of the First Civilization, but they do not know everything. They do not know of the identities of the Templars like I do." Connor was taken aback more of the fact that she actually called him her "son". He lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes.

"What are you telling me, Aghanashimi? That our people know nothing of our enemies? Even Clan Mother?"

"Yes," she looked him dead in the eye, "and the only reason I would not accept is because your blood is the blood of a traitor. Haytham was once part of the Creed, but became the Grand Master of the Templars of his own free will. Your mother loved him, nonetheless, but he betrayed not only the Creed—his entire lineage. This one act of treason could have destroyed everything…" tears started to well up in her eyes, but Connor stayed emotionless. "I did not want our people to suffer over one life—"

"So you sought to kill me," he concluded.

"And now I shall assist. You will not like it and I do not expect you to, but you have my allegiance. I will answer 'yes' to each question the leaders of the Iroquois asks so that my daughter can marry, but promise me that you will go see the oracle that lives far from this land."

"An oracle?" his brows furrowed.

"She, too, is of the Creed and knew of your mother who saw her once in a dream. Your observer is the only one who can take you to her for going alone will prove difficult. This oracle knows of the future of this land and the world as much as your observer does, but once you meet her, she will tell things that not even the observers would know about."

"Are the Eyes really that sacred to the First Civilization?" he asked.

"They keep the assassins in line and no matter what gibberish they speak of, it will always lead you to a Piece of Eden. They know of the Templars eliminating free-will—it is why they are more urgent about it. The killing of the Templars must not be up to her; it must be you." She looked from Tsipporah to Connor as she spoke, saying that wherever his novice wished to venture, surely he would find another Piece of Eden. Recently, she has been ecstatic about nothing but finding Captain Kidd's treasure and wanted nothing more than to find it, urging Connor to come along with her. He looked to the side and thought about it. Perhaps he would go off to find this oracle and Captain Kidd's treasure; wherever it may be after seeing to it that his cousin and his best friend are married. The assassin was cut from his thoughts as his mentor poked him with his cane.

"Discussing business, I see," he sat down with the two, "I'm surprised you haven't started a fight yet, Ada."

"'_Ada_'?" Connor looked to his aunt.

"He did not care how to pronounce my name, so he calls me Ada sometimes." She slammed her hand on the table, demanding another fill of ale and the novice to bring herself over. When the novice did, she gave a very shrewd look to the dragon lady, ready to take any insult she would throw at her. After downing ale, she pointed to her.

"Sing at my daughter's wedding."

"Say '_please_' and it's done."

"Please?"

"It's done."

"You have my thanks."

"Nice talking to you."

"Same to you."

And the novice went back to her crowd of misfits where Marie pulled out her gambling deck of cards and men whirled around her, cheering every time she rolled the dice and took some money out of someone's pockets. She squealed every time, and sat back in her seat. Connor shrugged at the girls' expense and slightly jumped in his seat after his observer rolled the dice, yelling, "BOOM! Yeah, bitch! And what? And what? See my victory dance! OH! You go'n learn today! You go'n learn today! You ain't never met nobody like me! Whoo!" Marie laughed and threw her head back, seeing the observer prance around in a strange movement she called a 'dance'. She lifted her dress from the floor and skipped backwards in a rhythm and Angie followed.

"Yeah, Angie! Do that move! Do the jerk-jerk-jerk-jerk-jerk-_jerk_!" then she tripped on her dress and fell backwards again. The neighbors laughed heartily at the novices' strange ways, but enjoyed themselves as the party continued. Faulkner and the crew of the Aquila took their share of rum and raised their glasses, as the first mate wanted to toast.

"I propose a toast," he started, "to our dear Captain Connor for bringing us to the most beautiful place on the Lord's good green earth and the girls for setting up such a wonderful party so that we can drink like we've never drank before!"

"Aye! Hear, hear!" everyone raised their drinks in agreement.

"And for Godfrey and Terry for picking up the gifts from our yards!" the carpenter hollered and everyone cheered for the gifts under the tree.

"And for the Queen of France herself to join on such a rare occasion!" Corrine added.

"For Achilles, to being the badass that he is!" Angie raised.

"To Achilles Davenport!" everyone followed and Achilles lowered his hat over his eyes from the growing pride swelling in his gut. Of course, everyone turned to the lucky couple whom to be married in the beginning of spring. They gave three cheers for them and the mother, who tried not to be so emotional about it, but the alcohol in her system caused her to burst out in tears and tell her daughter endlessly of how much she loved her.

"To Connor for putting up with my shit since 1770!"Tsipporah called out and there was a mix of cheers and laughed molded into on big mesh of joy. Kanen'tó:kon raised his portion of drink toasting to his bride-to-be for learning some things from Angie and Fillan for their wedding night and everyone whooped while Connor shook his head and looked to his own feet while his aunt pursed her lips, wondering what exactly her daughter has learned. She, instead, stated that as long as it brings her many grandchildren, it's fine with her, letting it slides and looked to her nephew.

"Will you not toast with them?" she asked, nudging his arm.

"There is no need. I am already grateful for everyone being here together under one roof. As long as their happiness continues I am content."

"(Lies)," she spat with doubt, "(Another's happiness and yours is different. Sure you can be happy for someone, but once in a while it is no sin to be selfish just like you are with that girl. In order for one's observer to go home or to their own time, the assassin must clear all Templars. You have barely started.)"

"(It is not the act of selfishness and who are to say that what I do is selfish)?" he raised the anger in his voice, "(You tried with all your power to keep your own flesh and blood unhappy for the rest of her life!)"

"(You will try to do the same with this one for the exact same reason—because you have feelings for her!)" She retorted and the two ignited a fight. He had tried to elbow her in the face, but she deflected it and landed a punch to his lip that caused it to easily two Santa Clauses pulled the natives back from each other while Achilles drank quietly, uninterested. The girls stopped their game as one of the novices heard bits and pieces of the argument, going to the assassin's side.

"Connor? What happened?" Tsipporah asked, checking the young man's face for bruises and cuts. He pushed her hand from his cheek and forced himself away from her touch. This caused more anger in her with a pang of sorrow.

"I think now would be a good time to pull out the surprise," Angie spoke out to Alice and she nodded without excuse, walking out the door and told her love to wait with her cousin.

"(I suppose there are some things you cannot negotiate with her, huh?)" Kanen'tó:kon passed his friend a napkin to wipe the blood from his mouth and accepted it.

"(Kateri has a surprise outside that she wishes to show everyone. Will you join?)"

"(Yes, I will)," Connor wiped the rest of the blood off and stood aside to the door, calming his nerves from his aunt's staining words. Marie called the girls back for the card game, but Diana and Catherine came to the front and brought out dinner in an assembly line. It was as if time stopped when the food came out of the kitchen. There was the turkey the girls chased down to hunt, a whole legion of fish, baskets of bread, and chopped potatoes among other foods. If not for Marie, there wouldn't be any abundant desserts. The Santa Clauses waited for everyone to have their share and announced that they were going to call on the gift giving, so all the neighbors huddled to hear as if they were fishing in to hear lottery numbers.

"Alright," Godfrey picked up the first and Terry did at the same time that erupted into an argument on who should which first. They huffed at each other and continued. Someone had sent Fillian a gift and it was from Angie—of course. He opened it on the spot and saw before his eyes whole lingerie in his hands. Angie wagged her finger and said that it was part one of the gifts and she was part two.

"Whore," Aghanashimi called out and people stared.

"No, she is really," Tsipporah defended, deadpanned.

The rest of the gifts were properly passed out in an assembly line as followed. All of the participants ate their fill and collected their presents. The novice didn't really care much of what happened under the roof afterwards. She wanted to go to bed as soon as possible for it felt like midnight was creeping on in the darkness. Somewhat, though, she woke up to the party again on two things:

It was proclaimed that Marie and Alice had given Connor a gift.

Aghanashimi and Faulkner were singing obnoxious pirate songs.

Now how on earth did she know of pirate songs when she hated outsiders? It didn't really matter at this point since she made an effort to get along with everyone. Can't really count on her relationship with those of her own when she punched him square in the face. He could have easily knocked her back and she saw the hesitation in his eyes. She knew him too well to hit a girl—let alone, his own tribe-member. That young man has a lot of pride, but ten times more heart and conscience. Her thoughts were cut when her name was called out for receiving a gift. As expected, they were presents from just about everyone. What got her really curious was if her assassin got her something special. _Wait_…

Is she really concerned of what he would get her? He's not the gift-giving type, is he? She heard his name being called on several times and when her name came up on the giving portion, he became rigid. Watching him open her gift to him was like the suspense in a slasher movie. Her box was patterned with paint splatters and stripes on canvas, wrapped in a black ribbon. He carefully opened it to find something equivalent to that of a medallion and pulled it by the black woven necklace, looking at the charm. The relief of the pendant carried that of flight of an eagle from a branch on the Cliffside whereas the bottom had many of Homestead's houses and his village nearby. Everyone was in awe of the detail and praised the observer for having such artistic talent, but Connor said nothing and just stared seriously into the usually had that sort of reaction from over-critiquing teachers and wondered what thoughts swam through his head.

When she received something from Connor, she looked at the box and did some childish actions with it. She put her head to the box and shook it to test the mass, and opened it out nervously. When it came to light, she took out the light-weighted endowment and stared at it. The simplicity of it was too wonderful for words. It may have seemed like nothing to the others, but it did for her and the natives knew of its value.

"_Eagle feathers_?" her eyes lit with naïveté, "and there's three," her eyes widened as much as her mouth, "and they're _big_!"

"That's what she said," Angie added comically and earned a snarl from the novice, but she turned back to her native companion and gave the brightest smile she's ever given him.

"Thank you, Connor, I love this _so_ much! I'll wear this in my hair for the rest of my life." The look on her face caused much of the young man's conflicted emotions to churn inside him and thought about what his aunt had accused him of a few moments ago. Before he finally lost his nerves, Godfrey and Terry called out all the participants to come outside to see Alice's surprise. The people poured themselves out like ants, leaving the novice in the bar alone. At least, she thought she was alone. She was waiting for people to leave so she could fit out the door without a problem, but lo and behold, there was Connor still leaning on the wall with his arms crossed; and looked her way.

"Aren't you gonna go outside?" she blinked, placing the feathers in her hair.

"Thank you for the gift. This is what you were making when you were sick?"

"I'm not too mad about it anymore because you caught me when I was done anyway. I don't blame you for the fall, either. I thought I got over the whole acrophobia, but that didn't work out so well and my instructor back at my time didn't really give a fuck about it. Angie was the most supportive, but when I grabbed the sketchbook, she was scared of me because interrupting my insanity time—"

"What do you know of the Mayan Ruins and Captain Kidd's treasure?"

"We're missing out on your cousin's surprise, tree-hugger…"

"Tell me what you know. I know you have been collecting trinkets for Peg leg and that the two subjects are connected."

"You look for Captain Kidd's treasure and the next few clues lead you to the ruins. I don't know where in the Mayan territory it is, though…" she scratched her head, trying to think of what else came out of that old coot's mouth and stopped her train of thought when Connor was in front of her.

"My aunt believes that there is an oracle that holds information that neither the Brotherhood nor the observers know about. I must seek out this oracle in order to uncover some truths and you will assist me." Tsipporah gave an incredulous look as if going on adventures weren't much of a specialty of hers or even a field day.

"Stop thinking that I'll just stop helping you because I won't. Besides," she fingered the eagle feathers clipped into her hair, "I've never been so important to someone on a personal level except for my family and Angie… now I have all of you. _Damn_, these feathers are bigger than my forearm. How do you find these?" Connor tried with all his might not to smile. He only said briefly that he fetched them from the perch near his village, close to where they had first met. The novice cooed and smiled with a touch of euphoria, but dropped it so quickly when she realized… _how romantic this is_.

"Maybe I should go pee now before it gets colder than the French Queen's bedside." She lifted her dress and kicked the door open, galloping out of the roomas fast as she could to head to the manor, but not without seeing what everyone was in awe about. They were all singing Christmas carols around a tower of candles shaping into a pine tree with an angel on top. The sight was glorious; however, the novice could not stay. Her mind went numb when he set his eyes on her, especially after she gave him her hand-made gift. She passed the crowd and went straight to the patio and picked the lock open…

* * *

Several weeks passed and it was the end of February where the sun wavered to melt away the ice to let some strands of grass takes a breath. The animals that crawled and creatures that flew were readying themselves for the season of rebirth. It wasn't the only awakening that occurred. News from the British came in for the Intolerable Acts. Angie and Tsipporah sat at the dining room table and read the newsprint, eating the apples and bread with no dignity to have table manners for this news was too important to pass. Apparently, the Port of Boston would be closed until further notice due to the incident with the tea. The blonde licked the salty bread taste off of her fingers and laughed.

"Good. Serves those wankers right."

"Well, the village is still safe. Too bad Marie had to go home before January. She said she would purchase the land do it would be safe, but she doesn't have that kind of power to do so and would raise suspicion in Versailles. Well, that was last year. Actually, don't do a New Year's party anymore. It got me tired as hell," she yawned and flipped the newspaper to see what else there is. Taxes, taxes, taxes, taxes, taxes_… ooh, meats on sale for half price_. Perhaps now would be a good time to check on the old man since he said nothing since the Christmas party. The men the novices lived with are more topsy-turvy than the men back home. Sure they keep to themselves and down some beer once in a while, but these men were different; they were always silent and mysterious.

Fed up with the silence, Tsipporah wondered when she and her assassin would travel to find Captain Kidd's treasure and went to the basement, leaving her blonde companion to fiddle with food. She yanked the candelabra and turned to the stairwell unlocking from the wall behind her and descended into the passage, hearing endless blows sound off against wood. Sliding down the banister with her bum, she witnessed Achilles giving his student instruction again, but the lesson stopped and the men turned to her.

"Is there something you require, girl?" the old man huffed in annoyance. The novice frowned at his reaction, but what the hell. She didn't exactly have anything planned today except collecting more trinkets and helping Alice with her wedding dress, which still lacked decorations. Her native companion was beaded with sweat, but lifted his chin and wondered what was so important that she had to interrupt them.

"I'm… really , really bored," was all she could come up with, "I hate to sound like a fussing bitch, but when are we gonna find Captain Kidd's treasure, Connor? You promised…" her bottom lip swelled into a full puppy-pout and the old man was not amused at all. In fact, he lifted his cane from under him and threw it in her general direction like a spear. The rush of wind brushed her cheek uncomfortably and sent a chill down her spine. Upon slowly turning, she found the cane buried in the wall and turned her head forward too quickly for her own neck to handle. The girl yelped when the old man teleported in front of her.

"Is that all you require?" he warned.

"Yep. That's all." It took a lot of power to not scream at the instant death that may have come her way. She jumped over the railing and ventured up the stairs, cursing about how Connor did not protect her from old man Freeman. When she got to the first floor, she found Angie leaning against the wall, covering her lengthened grin with her hand. Tsipporah was not amused at all, but it was of little consequence. She's been avoiding her native companion since the Christmas party. The memory of how they almost pressed on each other's lips instantly came to mind and she fingered at the large feathers pinned in her hair. Clan Mother seemed pretty happy to see her wear such things in the mass of dark curls, saying that they resemble freedom and closeness to the Creator.

"I see you keep touching those things in your hair," Angie nudged, "I've been seeing him wear that medallion you made him, too. He even goes to bathe with it." _Really_? She knew he's been wearing it for quite some time ever since the party, but every occasion? The novice always woke up and placed the long feathers into her hair every day since then… She narrowed her eyes in a blinding fury.

"Why the _fuck_ are you watching him take a bath?" she wrapped her hands around her friend's slender neck and she suffocated a laughter as she was pushed against the wall. Obviously, she had no shame in what she was doing. Bad enough that Connor saw her naked, but for her to peep-tom him every opportunity; aren't assassins blessed with the sixth sense of Eagle Vision? Wouldn't she be dead by now? The hostility was put to a halt as the novice felt someone pull her back with a swift, strong force. Both of her arms were extended at either side and felt two compacted palms putting pressure to the back of her head, threatening to break her neck open.

"Calm yourself," a deep, husky whispered in her ear that channeled through to her nerves, causing her to petrify with need, "Meet me at the Aquila. Faulkner should be waiting there." He released her and twirled the novice to face him. The young assassin was already dressed in his casual Captain attire and the novice stared, astonished at how fast he changed. She also noticed that he was indeed still wearing the medallion, tucked in his collar—recognizing the necklace that held it. A smile almost crept on her face and their eyes locked as she left for the door… and ran back to fetch Angie, and then run back to the door.

* * *

"Haha… I saw that," Angie mocked, "you guys can't keep up this tension. I thought this guy had a hard heart for you." She's right. He did for her and most outsiders ever since… ever since his village was burned, scorching not only those dying but those living—or so she was told once. The girls continued for the dock.

"I told you what happened at the Boston Massacre: I willingly protected because he wanted the strength to protect people he loved and the home he grew up in. I didn't need my leg where I wanted to go, but he needed his whole life. He has a lot of things to accomplish and all I had to do was watch it all happen. Juno kept coming to me in my dreams, saying that someone of his lineage had to be protected by someone of our lineage. That's why I… I didn't want anything bad to happen and… _ugh_." The words spouting from her tongue seemed so unreal that even she couldn't believe what she was saying right now.

"So you're saying that it wasn't because you cared about him, you didn't want him to die without accomplishing anything yet? Is that it?" Angie furrowed her brows, analyzing her friend's nonsensical explanation, "You're making no sense, babe."

"Ugh! I don't know!" she threw her hands in the air, "I had a gamer's mind back then. Sure it was a heroic sacrifice I did, but I just did it because he was needed and I'm just the tag-along artist. It wasn't until he said over and over again that me getting hurt was his fault; it wasn't, but after that he started to look at me differently—more differently than when we first came to Davenport, Homestead. He told me that I was important to him as his home and his friends and family… I can't deal with that because guess what happens when everything's done?!"

"Sipsy!" Angie grew serious and gripped her friend's shoulders, turning her attention to the gunnery staff of the crew. They looked as if they were watching a theater and turned back, minding their own business. The Aquila's first mate came upon the flustered young lady, giving her a sympathetic pat on the back.

"I think it's a little too early to be yapping away as you are, lass. Captain might have your head for getting sentimental on him."

"Oh, well, you know there's 'mental' in 'sentimental', so…" she cleared her throat, "Captain wants everything ready and I know where to get the rest of the trinkets before we can find the exact location of the ruins."

"Aye, already ahead of you, miss. Fort Wolcott is where the Captain would like to be." Faulkner turned on the crew, shouting orders to ready the ship. Angie gave a puzzled look as to why they were going to an English fort. They might as well destroy the chain of forts the Templars have control over. Of course, the novice thought about it, but all that was up to Connor to decide. The least she can do is persuade him to kill Templars at the moment. This man confused the hell out of her. These men will stop at nothing to control the minds and hearts of people, and diminish the very fabric of time and space. It was a spooky consideration that he has taken his training for granted. And speak of the devil; the young assassin himself came their way, walking that walk. Tsipporah wished he talked the talk, otherwise, she'll have to vouch for him again with Juno. The thought of hurting him to please the goddesses and gods made her blood run cold, and her teeth to grind bitterly.

"Angie, do you mind staying to watch the place?" the novice asked, which she needn't to. She immediately obliged and when the two looked to Connor, Alice clung to his sleeve childishly. "Come back soon, cousin!" she cried as she thought him going to war, "May our Creator watch over you all." He gave her a reassuring embrace and leapt onboard, sprinting to the wheel. The girls hugged and kissed, promising to bring back some souvenirs and Tsipporah ran onboard. Once her foot was off the board, she dashed off to the bow and the men let the ropes go loose to set sail. Somehow, she could feel the salty air whipping through her already and the Aquila turned her nose away from the dock and to the open waters. Like rats, the crewmen scurried and added more speed to their footing, crawling to the crow's nest and standing by the cannons should anything happen. Captain Connor spun the wheel left and right to steady the course until they could no longer see the homestead behind them—just strings of land covered by cliffs, rocks, and tall forests.

The captain shouted for full sail and his first mate repeated for the lazy scallywags, but the novice was too deep in thought and stared at the open sea as she sat on the railing of the bow. Her feelings were mixed up and wasn't too sure how to explain how truly liking someone is a difficult activity for her since her psycho-therapist made sure of that. She never fell for a handsome face since then, but now it was blowing her whole stature after seeing her friend again. Connor was no different. He thought he could get over how much of a boyish, snarky child she was around him, but her femininity would arise around others. Her bi-polar act was of no consequence and maybe she was conflicted about him now because she turns to stone in his presence or ramble about anything that came to mind. He felt her present to him move about under his collar as he steered and tried as best as he could to not smile so brightly about it.

"Yo, Captain Connor," the novice snapped him from his thoughts, "It might take us a while to get to Fort Wolcott—maybe a few hours or so and I was wondering…"

"What is it?" his eyes were focused front.

"Were you really mad about me leaving the first time?" she blurted, having no muse of wording it correctly. His eyes went to the floor and focused on the horizon once more as he thought about her question—_or not_.

"That is not open for discussion. Return to your post." He paid no attention of whether she stayed or left, but heard a pestered grunt and stomping down the stairs until the novice crawled up to the railing of the bow again. His first mate carried on as if nothing happened, knowing that the captain might not take it lightly to nose in on his personal business. However, if knew even the slightest few things of the Eyes of the First Civilization it is that they have the right painfully remind those that they watch of why their position is more important than the Brotherhood, Tsipporah wasn't like that…

* * *

The coastline was quiet and clear as the oceans were as calm as they'll ever be. The ship still rocked back and forth in desperate need of her captain to steer her constantly. The first mate checked the map over and over, noting that the oncoming fort in view was the one they were searching for. The crew cheered, glad that they were minutes away from their destination and the captain demanded for full sail to get this over quickly; the novice, too, felt her chest swell with delight upon the news, helping the wings of the Aquila to flap open along the rushing waters until they reached Fort Wolcott. The captain commanded to half sail as he saw a docking area that could hide the ship from the enemy. The crewmen finally had the ship at full stop and Connor thanked everyone for their hard work, nodding to his novice and first mate to follow him. A lifeboat was lowered with all three in, splashing into the salty- water and Faulkner rowed them closer to the rocks for an easy sneak in through the fort's blind-spot.

"The fuck is this shit?" Tsipporah cursed as she heard men in the distance shouting orders, "I guess you weren't kidding about that gut feeling, tree-hugger." Faulkner couldn't have agreed more.

"Fort doesn't look as abandoned as it should. Looks as occupied as can be."

"I will need something to draw their attention, then…" Connor concluded. The novice waved her hand waiting for the biggest idea of the century.

"_Like_…"

"Once you lose sight of me, wait for ten minutes then bombard the fort. I will slip under the cover of the shelling."

"No the fuck you're not," she snapped, "Now I know I told you having friends was good once upon a time—friends from home and ethnic friends like black friends. They tell you when shit isn't appropriate and this…" gesturing the situation, "is not_ appropriate_ shit."

"You are forgetting that I am not just your friend, but your captain. Do as I ask and wait aboard; Faulkner, row back with her once I am off." He finished and turned his back, sending the novice into a silent rage-quit, wrinkling her face and twitching her eye.

"Aye, aye, sir. Sounds a trifle dangerous, but I'm sure you're up to it. I doubt they let convicted pirates like ol' Lucky Lem out of his cell much, so if his little scroll is anywhere—it's there." Connor leapt off of the lifeboat and onto the rocks, climbing up the cliff on the blind side of the fort. The two left behind watched until their captain was out of their sight and in. The girl plopped back into her seat, mad as hell. She went through the trouble of collecting the trinkets for him—and by trouble, she went just about everywhere out on the frontier to search for them. She climbed the same cliffs that she feared to climb for so long to reward her with this adventure and what does she get in return? _A wait at the cannon-fire_? Dude, where's the reward in that? As the boat rowed, her mind was flooded on how she was going to bombard the fort. _Maybe that'll teach that fucker to not leave her with the cannons ever again…_

Ten minutes were in counting by a small hour glass that the observer made and counted until the last drops of sea-sand fell at the bottom and the ten-minute cycle would start again. Well, her captain ordered the fort to be fired upon and by God it will. She gave a dark smile before shouting orders amongst Faulkner to fetch the cannons and fire on the fort like the apocalypse is here and never to end. She made sure that the cannons that carried scattered flames would be shot and had the whole fort covered in an inferno, but had to calm herself, knowing that an adventure would be missed as much as her best friend. Whoa, _best friend_? Perhaps this whole journey across time is getting to her head.

Faulkner went to the railing after he ordered for the firing to a pause and went over to the railings. The situation and its entirety started to sink in. She didn't get him hurt badly, did she? It was just an order out of anger and hoped that he didn't lose an arm because of it. The girl fidgeted and waited with the first mate, looking over the ship's rail. Already ten more minutes passed and nothing. Fifteen minutes passed and nothing but the burning of Fort Wolcott officially abandoned. _Did she kill him_?

"Oh my God!" she kept her eyes to the burning fort, "Stupid, Tsipporah! So stupid! I should have gone in with him… and now I failed the order, and he'll never see his cousin's wedding!" her tears almost burst from the corners of her eyes, "I never even told him goodbye the first time… and now he'll never know that I—" continuous grunting sounded behind her abruptly and she gasped, turning to the noise.

"C-Connor!"

"You're late captain," Faulkner pulled his captain in, patting his back to get his stamina going while the novice wiped her eyes to look tough again.

"Well, look who's alive," she sassed, "how does the hunt fare, captain?"

"Those occupying the fort were less than thrilled by my presence."

"And?" the first mate pressed.

"And what?"

"That damned scroll ye muckworm! Was it there?"

"That it was, Mister Faulkner." He concluded his small talk and went for the wheel, saying nothing more. The novice looked down sadly and walked slowly to the bow. She willed herself to get over his close call, but her body could not. It was too shell-shocked by the fact that the one person she cared about from all else could have died because her frustration. Forget everything, she mused. Maybe venturing in groups wasn't for her after all. She warned him not to keep her close, yet he always does. A small smile grew on her face, knowing full well how rebellious he is as she.

* * *

Later that night, the Aquila whistled along with the calm, gentle winds. Tsipporah could as well and whispered some tunes that no one else here knew of—ones that were befitting as one would sit under the starlit sky. That was one of things about the Eyes: they would always have a lyric on their tongue. The arts were important to them for they are an imprint of one's soul. Her feet swung over the railing back and forth, as if she was a girl again on a cruise ship for the first time. That was when she knew she loved to go on ships. Not vacations—on ships and adventures. She and her siblings would go on the secluded islands to collect old shells and buried trinkets when they visited the islands along Tortuga and the Caribbean. They were beautiful memories except for the parts where bird droppings got tangled into her hair. A gasp escaped her lips as she heard someone call out her name.

"Oh," she saw that it was none other than the 'tree-hugging' captain himself. She had nothing more to say to him after a few hours ago. He worried her to the max and she hated him a little for it. "The hell do you want?" Connor was still on the wheel, but there was no need to make sharp turns and hard steering as the water was close to calm. He tried to see through her attitude, knowing full well why she was upset this time unlike the other scenarios they've fought.

"Is there something you wish to talk about?" he occasionally took a glance at her and looked forward again. The novice gave up and stomped her feet back on the floorboards and walked towards him with a thread screaming 'bad-attitude' until she was next to him. Grinding her teeth, she was not too trusting of her words. _They might come out as poison_.

"Don't leave me to the cannons _ever_," she warned, "I'm serious. I made sure there was a dragon's breath in the last few rounds." The captain had a glint in his eyes as if he was very pleased to hear that.

"You did better than what I had originally expected you to do. Are you sure you do not want to keep this as a permanent post to the Aquila?"

"_What_? Nig—" she stopped herself from calling him something he was not, "Next stop we get to, I am going with you whether you like it or not. If there's gold involved in this, I'm giving it to Kateri to put on her wedding dress since her mother gave me permission to do so. I am the one who inspired this whole trip since the lot of you motherfuckers thought the old Peg-leg was crazy, but no, once I believed in him, all this shit went down and we actually found some cool shit. I don't wanna hear any orders about me not walking through the wilderness because I was trained to do this like you—"

"Yours words… were they the truth?" his eyes softened.

"What are you saying now, Captain Morgan?" she was too agitated to notice his defenses slightly crumbling.

"The words you spoke of when you believed that I met a terrible end—were they true?" he fully faced her now and her brow twitched, not sure how to lie this time. Her feet scribbled on the wooden floor and she swayed, trying to avoid his overwhelming stare. There it happened again, her chest swelled, and her lungs bottled themselves. Feeling so weak that she would faint, she leaned against the railing to keep her cool.

"Look…" she choked, "I'm here to watch you—"

"Answer my question, or is Clan Mother right about you not allowing yourself to feel anything to not distract me?"

"Wha—" she snapped, "No! I'm not restricted to feel anything. Those of the First Civilization says it's in my blood to keep…" she stopped herself before she blew everything, but it was just getting more painful not to tell. "If you don't do your job as an assassin and eliminate the Templars, then I'll have to… uh…" she felt a hot tear escape her eye. Connor let one hand go from the wheel and brought his observer close to him by the drag of her collar. She didn't make a move to run away, but couldn't say much beyond that point.

"Tell me, Tsipporah, or our allegiance ends here."

"—**OR I'LL HAVE TO ERASE YOU**!" she yelled, holding her breath. The tight grip on her collar loosened and felt herself get pushed back, causing her to stumble onto the floor. Her body couldn't stop shaking. She had revealed to him a piece of information that no one else knew—not even the Templars of all time. She didn't want her friends of his tribe knowing about this and Clan Mother sure as hell wouldn't know about it. She would be forced to turn him into nothing but a ghost, ending his lineage. It was a fate worse than death and she would rather knee him in the face for good measure. After Juno told her of this the first time, she longer wanted to be a part of this journey—

"…Did you not plan on telling me this at all?" his hands clenched onto the wheel, the wood and splinters piercing his fingers. Tsipporah gave labored breaths before honestly telling him… _everything_.

"I thought I didn't have to," she confessed unsympathetically, "You seemed so determined to eliminate all of them, so didn't think I had to tell you, but then… then you just didn't want to kill at all and the only way to keep you from the Civilization to be involved is if I kept our partnership obtuse," she sniffed as her eyes turned pink with tears, "and that didn't happen either. I was supposed to keep this confidential. **Why can't you just hurry up with your job so I can do mine and go home, Connor**?!"

He gave the wheel a sharp turn for her to tumble into a wall and the novice bonked her head on a sturdy rail, earning him some frustrated grunts and cursing from her. Once she got up, ready to bash him in as a means of retaliation, the chill of a cold blade against her neck blocked all her train of thought. Her eyes turned to the corner, spotting her assassin with eyes that were relinquished of all forgiveness. She was afraid at first that he would decide to kill her and dump her body into the ocean. Tsipporah's eyes reflected the stars, not making any stir of resistance. Deep down, returning home was her end goal, but she wanted to enjoy this adventure as much as she can. Her foolish notion on her part was treating this whole thing like a game, but what of it? She didn't grow up during the Revolution. All of this seemed like a 3-D movie without the glasses, but certain death was going to be real alright…

"I understand if you want to kill me now. My silence is usually my worst trait. Angie has a better chance than I do anyway since she climbs all by herself." Her snarky remarks won't save her and she knew it, closing her eyes. Instead a feeling sharp pain, she heard flicking and sheathing. Giving herself a minute more, she opened her eyes and found the assassin heading back to the wheel, leaving her stupefied.

"Wait… aren't you—"

"We have yet to reach the oracle and ruins you spoke of," he barely glanced at her, his voice stern and emotionless, "When we return to Homestead, I will go and complete my duties. You will stay at manor until I finish."

"You can't do that! I am your observer—"

"Was all of this a game to you? A play to watch and unfold, changing puppet strings as you went? You kept this information to yourself and barely told me a hint of this."

"I don't ask you why you kill so many!"

"Spare me! I will hear no more of this from you. From now on, you will either assist me quietly and without complaints, or I shall _end_ this journey of ours." The novice said nothing more and Connor returned to control the ship. Her lip quivered as he did not look at her for the next few minutes, hours… she held herself up below deck, curling up on a barrel on how stupid that move was. All she wanted to do now was just… fade away; all that talk and he openly threatened her should she heed the orders of the First Civilization. It wasn't her fault that their rules were so orange and blue. This was completely standard for her since she watched so many movies and games involving spirits, and how they work. That's how she came to understand the situation, but no—these were people's lives she was messing with and didn't mean to. Now her potential friendship in the grand scheme of things hated her to the bone and she feared that there was nothing more or to do to mend it. And the look on his face when he looked at her…

"I just… _FUCK_!" she sobbed and split open a wooden barrel with her bare hand, allowing her blood to trickle to the floor, "Why did I have to open my _big_ fat mouth?! Stupid! _Stupid_! **Stupid**! He'll never forgive me… He'll _never_… f-forgive m-m-me…"

* * *

**Well, that escalated quickly. :/**

**I honestly felt that they got along too fast so there had to be some kind of wedge that set them apart so the pairing could be more meaningful and rewarding for both characters, so... yeah. Don't worry, they'll end up finding the treasure of Captain Kidd, get to the wedding in time, but when trouble truly arises will everyone come together. :D**

**Anyway, we'll see who the oracle is. It's gonna be sweet, trust me.**

**Thanks for following!**


	13. Chapter 13: Disbosom

"It's the hardest thing in the world to go on being aware of someone else's pain."  
― **Pat Barker**

* * *

The next location for the map piece is within a bucolic manor somewhere in Jamaica and only with the help of the novice could the crew of the Aquila find it. There were no quarrels whatsoever since the two members of the Creed fought with words laced with venom, but nothing would stop her from not entering this dangerous, new territory for she said she would venture the next area of interest. Second thoughts were not passed as they docked into the Caribbean near the manor's ruin. Many sailors at the Vineyard heard rumors of this place as did Peg leg. They called it "The Mad Doctor's Castle" mainly for the once famed Lewis Hutchinson who claimed to be a scientist who resided in Edinburgh Castle. Not much is known, but apparently when Joseph Palmer came to join him, the two were never to be heard of again. Tsipporah loved these mysteries. Maybe this small mission can get the stress off her nerves. Her captain barely spoke a word to her except, "Kept watch; Man the cannons," and let's not forget, "Secure those lines".

Once they got inside the manor from the second-story window, the two walked down the corridor to find various dimmed areas, dust and spiders in many corners, and untouched merchandise.

"It's a crime scene!" the novice clapped, recognizing the blood smears on parts of the wall. Connor passed by, brushing her shoulder coldly, and went ahead to analyze the clues of what exactly happened. The young woman did all she could as well, threading carefully to find any signs of prints or struggle leading to hidden pathways. After a few moments of walking in circles of the same room, Connor finally got to the museum portion of the manor with the novice silently following. The subsequent items in this area brought no comfort. There were glass capsules filled with dried blood and even another blood print on the floor. The assassin kept mumbling to himself of how evil this place felt with the grim quietness and the smell of death in every wake of each passing room. Focusing, he found some curious links: a broken vase, the murderer's location, and the spilt blood. Each leap and fall, he found more clues as to what happened.

"The scroll must be nearby," Connor said as he found another clue on a used musket, "We must move quickly. I do not understand how anyone could live here. Small wonder Hutchinson went mad—this place feels mad."

"Looks like me and Angie's college dorms if you take away the bloody capsules and dust." The assassin gave a soft, annoyed grunt and continued to walk until they reached a bloodied clock. Tsipporah thinned her eyes and looked at the red hand print, noting it to be a sort of hidden passage that could lead them somewhere and could be easily pushed. She suggested that Connor would take one side to push and she would pull. It didn't work as expected.

"This is not working!" the native argued.

"Must be a code to move it automatically then…" she realized to the open area from her right, there was a whole wall of smaller clocks. She stepped back and saw that many of them read as "4:50 o'clock". The novice gave Cheshire grin and went to the face of the clock, winding it until it read the "correct" time and… viola! The whole Grand Hall clock moved aside on its own. She gave herself a little victory dance and thanked all the adventures in the Legend of Zelda for teaching her the ways of overcoming puzzles and finding hidden passages. Connor, on the other hand, could care less as he walked ahead and didn't check to see if she would follow behind. This whole trip seemed a bit too empty like this manor. Everything that could've been between the two was mixed in mayhem as the mad doctor's museum. The depressing muses were halted by the compiling bodies of skeletons. If she were a bit younger, the young woman would pick up one body and move the jaws like a puppet out of amusement, but now… Now she just wanted to go home. The creepy haunted mansion setting, the eerie silence, and the awkwardness of being with her assassin was killing her.

"_'Close to a tree kissed by fire_'," he read aloud, holding out an old piece of paper that he picked from a specific dead body.

"Found it? Good. I'm out this bitch. _Sa-whoo_!" she exited the room, impatient. Connor rolled his eyes and went after her until the two went around outside to the docks. They barely looked or checked on each other. When Faulkner and the crew greeted them on their return, the captain waved about the piece he has found with the help of his observer. His honorable mention of her, however, did not sound affectionate, though. He barked orders and everyone went scurrying the ship in compliance and went for the wheel again, waiting for all the tied-off ropes to be loosened. Tsipporah gave a frustrated sigh and went below deck to have her own self as company. For some reason, all the noise and even the sea breeze immediately became thwarting. She closed the ceiling door and sat against a wooden post, pulling her tri-fold hat over her face. A sudden memory came over her about when Connor and her… Ratonhnhaké:ton and her stayed in the Homestead's stables and he told her that sleeping against a post is bad for one's back. A smile formed on her lips when she recalled him inviting her over to sleep alongside him and he would caress her hair. Then later at night, she lulled him out of his nightmare and held him close…

Damn it, she had to do something to get her best friend back. She's confused the hell out of him for far too long by shielding information with her bad attitude. She almost lost Angie this way and the memory still ached. It could not go on like this, but what of the First Civilization? If she was tasked to erase him, then what would they do…? The novice prompted to lift her hat from her eyes, but before her hands moved out of place, she felt a presence standing over her. She sat still and waited for something to happen—to hear a voice or hum. It wasn't exactly the voice she predicted to catch.

"It appears that you never learned or heed of my words of the past," the captain sighed in disappointment, "You always had a bad habit of getting yourself hurt if not from battle." He cupped her body into his arms, believing her to be sleeping and took notice to her reddened hand. His face wrinkled, not taking note on this before and brought her to his cabin. Once he got to the soft bench-setting, he placed her down and slowing pulled off her glove. Even then, he saw that the glove itself had scratch-marks as if by force, but as he saw her hand… it had several deep scratches that left some swelling behind. The contact of the air caused the novice to open her eyes and instinctively curl up, feeling the stinging pain she ignored for days now. Faulkner and the crew found it hard to ignore as well with all the pain-stricken grunting that escaped her throat as the two passed by, but the captain insisted that they should get back to work and to raise a full sail.

"Are you awake, Tsipporah?" He saw her eyes peek open and look away from him. Sure, with all the kindness in the world, he wouldn't ignore someone who is badly hurt. It wouldn't mean that situation has changed, though. He was still unforgiving with this one.

"_Ow_… Yeah, I am now," she kept her head low; "I forgot about my arm…" she flinched, "I punched some barrels, looked at the stars, and went to sleep—forgot all about it."

"Are you touched in the head?"was this how she spent all her rage quits? Artists sure are strange. It has been almost a week and this open, untreated wound could be infected with sprayed sea-salts. Not a day has passed that they ventured through a storm and the ocean set itself on the ship, threatening to drown some bodies. He's surprised that even she is just noticing how bad it looked. Connor took some filtered water (filtering was something he learned from his cousin) container from a cabinet blended in the wall and took some cloth, pouring some the distilled liquid on it and walked back to the novice. He took a bottle of wine along with him, too, and the girl remained unmoved. She simply rocked back and forth, clenching her fist until it paled to ooze out the pain.

"Here," he took her arm, "this may bring some pain, but it will pass quickly." He slapped on the watered cloth and the young woman shrieked upon contact. Yeah, it must be infected for it to hurt this much. She tried not fidget in her seat as he worked on her, but even if she did, her arm wouldn't stop shaking. How could she be sure that it was pain she was shaking from? Once the wound was finally cleaned of dried blood and then came the wine. Her throat tightened and her shoulders centered in.

"_Ow_. Ow. **Ow**. Ow. _Ow_. **Ow**…" she bit her lip before she could shame herself even more. It felt pathetic that she was taught to endure pain and she passed… and still complained about it afterwards. Psychotherapy did so little as well. Sure she could resist many flirtatious exchanges and pretty faces, but… not so much here. Spilling her heart out came too easily when she was with him and just being around him caused every bit of training to go out the window. Connor was a truth serum and she could spew every little secret she kept from him.

"You will be fine. There seems to be no sign of infection and you are welcome to rest—"he wrapped a bandage roll around her arm when he finished.

"I'm not tired, Connor," she argued.

"I do not have time for your debates, novice. Faulkner will see to it that you will stay put until we reach the ruins."

"_Fuck you_. Who do you think you're talking to, boy? What makes you think I'll just go along with whatever the hell you tell—"

His eyes bore—no, more like clawed into hers with a rare type of fury. He may be a kind man, but he was nowhere near a tolerant one. Ever since her return, she's been telling him what to do, to leave her alone and never wanted to be bothered. He wasn't having that and he was no punk. _Surely, this girl forgot who she was talking to_. Tsipporah's mouth closed hastily and slowly took her arm back her arm once it was properly treated. As much as he was willing to aid her, he would itch to kill her… she hoped not. Her face was forced to face him by his hand, not taking much of her bi-polar, PMS-ing bullshit any longer. She could barely yelp as his large palm overtook her by the neck.

"Returning home in one piece is your goal, but so is mine. I have had enough with your selfishness, Tsipporah. I did not train just for you to pull me into your 'adventures' and I am not your piece of art to mold in any way you please. You may be my observer and is tasked by the spirits to watch me, and I have no quarrel with you, but if you endanger my allies or my people—you will be my enemy and I will all out of forgiveness. Any more secrets I find out and you fail to inform me, you will be returning home and it will not be the future."

He dropped his hold and went outside, walking away as if nothing happened. Her injured hand felt at her neck—with a little more pressure, he could've killed her. _His mercy had limits_. Already she churned some hostility in him. Of course she was nihilist, but no one actually cared about her views in a sense of taking them seriously. There were other fish in the sea, but this guy wasn't having it. He was taking a great offense to her desire to go home and forget this whole war. Who was she kidding? She rubbed the bridge of her nose, wondering why all his frustration with her was killing her inside…

* * *

The blonde kept going back and forth to Boston, keeping an eye out for Templars. It was bad enough that one could have been dealt with, but no—downing his finances was satisfying enough. She palmed her face, discouraged and remembered that the only reason this guy was trained to be an assassin is because his lineage carried the sacred ability—a sixth sense. Whether he realized this to be a natural knack or not was of little consequence. Those of his blood and those to come after him will carry this from their birth 'til their grave. They could divide and multiply if they wished, but not with observers. The people of the First Civilization forbade it. That would be two dirty-bloods mixing together over and over again. Angie scratched her head at the thought. Most likely, Connor's parents were of the sort, but it was just a feeling. His father was an assassin who face-heel-turned and became a Templar, but his mother… She had to know.

The least she could find out was his mother's lineage, and lo and behold, there was Haytham free-running the rooftops. This seemed a bit reckless what she was doing. It didn't matter now since her body moved on its own to follow him. She weaved through the crowds, blending in to lower suspicion. After a few minutes of pursuit, he took a drop into an alleyway and the observer had to follow in. There were less people there, so she had to thread softly—or so she thought. Men from hidden crevices came out of the shadows as she stepped in, pointing their muskets at her.

"And so it appears that there are indeed two observers," Haytham walked back, straight-faced, "I'm not quite sure what you're planning here in the colonies, but you'll be coming under my supervision should you decide to come quietly."

"Sorry DILF-baby, but I'm taken."

"I'm sure you are."

"And I have some questions for you, if you'll answer them." The Grand Master circled around her, seeing if she was up to something.

"As you were," he replied, still on guard.

"I know you had close relations with a Native American woman named Ziio of the Mohawk Valley. Was she an observer?" The elder Templar stopped his motioning and thinned his vision.

"Why are you confirming this with me?" he scoffed, "I suppose there are subjects that not even the Eyes are too sure of… but yes, she was." Angie sensed some hesitation in his voice no matter how hard he tried to disguise it. The Eyes were too good at sensing another's emotions—only, the other one of the two wished not to dig up someone's personal musings. She gave a triumphant grin at his expression.

"Okay… and you know that observers watch assassins? You traitor."

"You should run along, girl, before we'll have only one observer to fret over."

"_At least_," she raised her index finger, "give your son a reason to take up arms. We both want to look to the future and we're not playing some children's game. He'll wipe out your entire clan _only _because you threaten his people, but I think he's a bit conflicted because of you. My accomplice is even more confused because she crossed between rationality and irrationality. I thought you'd try to take us out by now and William Johnson would have his way—"

"Make no mistake. We shall have our way. However, if you interrupt our errands again as you have this past week… I shall have your head if not your services. Are we clear?"

"Just one more question…" her eyes lit up with an honest curiosity, "Did you love her? Ziio, I mean…" His face remained expressionless and he turned his back to her, but she saw enough of him to see his eyes fill with a scattered, mixed up emotion. He would not say or answer to her, only:

"Your heads will belong to me soon enough. Make no mistake of that—you and your accomplices." He ended his warning and disappeared as soon as he dropped a smoke bomb. Angie covered her eyes and once the smoke cleared, sure enough they were gone. She coughed a few times before walking out of the alleyway, pondering on what happened this past week and rubbed her shoulder at the last few times this week that she got shot at by Templar colonists. The days were filled with nothing but frustration and her so called friend did nothing about it. She decided that going on an adventure without was going to fix everything. Perhaps she forgot that this is the turning point of the century of how their country was born. If she screws this up by bringing her procrastinating persona here, then the whole thirteen colonies will be taken over by the British and Connor's people might get early reservations. Angie shook her head as she passed down the lane to meet up with Fillan, hoping that Tsipporah knew what she was doing.

* * *

The crew of the Aquila had finally reached the coast of what would soon be modern day Belize. It was a Mayan territory called Cerros that lay beyond the cliffs and rocks. The novice, the captain, and the first mate leapt onto the lifeboat and rowed to the coastline where the rocks were most dominant. Tsipporah could care less. She grabbed the oar and rowed like hell, knowing damn well where she wanted to be, but her assassin stayed her hand—his eyes reminding her of the warning he gave before. Somehow, this treasure quest was no longer… _fun_. "Map says it's here," she bumped the boat into a fair patch of rocks within a dark, damp cave, "Wow… haven't been in a cave since that crazy trip to Hawaii…"

"I'll stay with our ride, captain, make sure nothing happens to it," Faulkner insisted.

"Good. There is a temple on the island. What I seek is likely in there." Connor turned on his heel and walked carefully as the cave seemed to narrow and sped up as he saw an opening.

"I wonder if there's gold from the Mayans left behind…"

"It is not what we seek here," he spat, "we are to search for the map piece and the oracle. We hardly have time for any games or to find things of profitable value."

"_What_… I was saying I wanted to find gold for Kateri's wedding dress, you dipshit. You're so mad at me that you think everything I do now is for me and no one else. Grow a pair." The two continued to skip their way as the cave opened up as well as the path below them, only containing a small amount of rocks that only half of their foot could fit on and the rest of the venturing contained a lot of climbing up. The novice spat into her hands and jumped up to get a good grip on the wall when Connor went first. The moss that grew made it much easier to stay on, but the moisture almost caused her to lose footing. At the last minute, she almost felt her foot completely lose its grip and saw herself falling to the humid, moist, rocky ground until her hand was immediately caught and hoisted up.

"You took too long," Connor scoffed, "focus on the task at hand." She wanted to punch him in the face so bad, but that would anger him further. She would apologize, but even in her attempts, he would not listen. The day after she confessed all that Juno told her, he closed his heart and mind from her. His ears were open with every word going through one ear and out the other. His every word came out as cold and uncaring, despite still looking out for her safety. Even as they walk side by side, his eyes remained front and a stronger barrier kept her from ever reaching him. The only in depth conversations they've gotten into so far were the ones discussed over the map. Everything was now just rational thoughts passing by and awkward silences when the crew or Faulkner wasn't around. All of this disconnection between them brought a sore feeling to her chest every night and thought at one point, that it would make her stomach acids surface if not the ship motion.

"No chance of staying dry today," he commented on the light drops of water falling on them from the trees. There were a few steps of stairs below them as well that was formed by once-white stone. They should be pretty close if something like this was here, but going on foot might take a while. Connor calculated that perhaps they should take to the trees and a sudden rustling in the bushes sounded. Alerted, the assassin took out his tomahawk and had another hand on his dual pistol while his observer had her arms reached over to her back, ready to unsheathe her elbow-blades. The two backed into their stances and heaved their breaths, waiting for a fierce beast to try to force its way through them. What emerged from the bushes was as they expected, but not in the way they expected. A large black jaguar with a blue and white eye looked their way, snarling and circling the two. Then it just… sat down and cocked its head to the trees, raising its body for them to follow behind. Connor sheathed his weapon and the novice did the same.

"He wants us to follow him," he concluded and climbed up the branches as the black beast did.

"Ok… animal guide to the treasure. This is cool." She followed as well with no dispute, trying hard to keep her balance on the dampened branches that the boys seem to have no problem climbing, falling, and perching. There was so much greenery up in the canopy like that of a nature reserve and flowers as exotic as the ones she would see in science museums. There were rare orchids that were now extinct in her time that were all around her, including fruits she recognize and did not recognize. She could tell one tree was of mangoes and avocadoes, but there were fruits that looked a mix of pineapples and star-fruits. Her head kept to the back, rubber-necking as they passed through beautiful views and close-ups of rare rainforest wild life, birds, insects, and trees until she nudged into Connor. He made a soft grunt and she looked over his shoulder, her jaw dropping as she did and moved around him instead.

There it was—ancient, untouched, and in the middle of all the sounds of the green forest. Covered with branches and moss, it was once a great nation of natives that celebrated the times and rule of the gods by giving offerings to the sun. They started astrology and calculated modern architecture that many tribes after them adopted into their own culture. Their fashion was friendly to the humid climates and consisted of many colors, respecting the gifts of nature that their gods have left behind for them. The nobles carried with them many pieces of gold and jewelry, and wore hair in insane ways that the French probably took to. However, some people from Europe came and saw their work as the work of savages and destroyed those who created beautiful works of tiling and patterning. These people met and knew their end, but left this ruin as a mark of their existence. _The Ancient Mayan Ruins_.

Tsipporah gritted her teeth and smiled, unable to contain her joy and the jaguar lead on to reach the entrance, which was no small feat. The group found themselves on thick branches that lead itself to the entrance.

"Kidd's treasure is probably inside that pyramid," Connor wondered.

"The oracle, too, or a shaman," Tsipporah added.

The jaguar nodded as if it understood what his followers were saying and pressed on until they were completely in Mayan territory where the novice couldn't stop skipping on the ground. They were on ruined territory, but they still had a long way before they reached the real entrance. The novice wrinkled her face.

"Yeah… they don't exactly have front doors… just big stairs taken over by the forest."

"There must be an easier way." The jaguar chewed on Connor's coat-tail, persuading him to pursue his direction. They went up the stairs, though, they must go around the side to get in. It was exasperating how they came about it, too. There was a large branch blocking the way and Connor instinctively slid under it. Unbeknownst to him, that was the end of the cliff and hung onto the edge he'd nearly fall off from with his tomahawk. His observer was losing her mind.

"_Oh my God_! _Connor_?!" she climbed over the branch and jumped down as did the jaguar, reaching out her hand. She let her body lean against the wet moss to reach him, but her hand was slapped away and the assassin managed his way back up on his own, climbing past her. The novice stood up, wiping herself off and sighed. Even when his life is endangered, he would not seek her aid. He can do what he wants, she supposed. Since she's no longer someone important in his eyes, he doesn't need her. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Since he's going to do this—no, she cannot. She can't just leave him even if is just a job. There are people that need him, Homestead needs him, the Sons of Liberty need him, the Mohawk need him… _Tsipporah needs him_.

"No small wonder this temple has not collapsed yet," he commented once more as they went further. There was a lot more cliff-hanging before they finally reached the entrance. Again, he slid under the rocks that blocked the way, but it ended as it did before. He nearly fell off of a sloping cliff-edge and the other side of the room held the box that contained the treasure. Connor groaned roughly as he tried to keep his footing and heard his observer call out to him with the jaguar purring worriedly.

"Connor!" she called, looking through the rocks, "Just jump, man! Come on!"

For once, he took her advice, but even that ended badly. Once he jumped to the broken pathway where the treasure was, the rocks his hands clenched onto collapsed and he fell seventeen feet to the ground. On impact, he let out a pain-stricken grunt as he fell on his side and the novice above slid through the rocks, and peered down to the lower levels, seeing that her assassin was down.

"Hey! You better not die from a fall like this! Get up!" it may have sounded harsh, but she was still shaking, hoping that he wasn't hurt or anything. The jaguar jumped down and skid its claws against the sloping wall, landing next to the young man. He nudged his nose against the boy's face and he easily got up, recovering from the fall. "I need to find a way back up to the treasure room." The jaguar looked all around and went in one direction and went up the columns seeing to it that Connor would tag along. Tsipporah sat patiently and waited for the two to come back up. Until then, she took a risky leap to the treasure room and landed on her feet… then her right knee. She sucked her teeth on impact and got back up to see the damage. Connor's right—she has a knack for hurting herself a lot. Blood was gushing out and dripped down her leg. She took a seat on the stone treasure chest and swung her feet, hearing for approaching footsteps. Well, she heard approaching footsteps, but then it returned to silence.

"…Hello?" she gave a coy fish-face, frozen on the spot. No one answered and guessed that Connor still didn't want to have leisure conversation with her. She brought her knees up and frowned—there was that sound again. _The hell is that noise_? It sounded like feet shuffling instead. Didn't sound at all like padded footwear… someone else was here? The novice stood slowly and took out her elbow-blades that gave an obnoxiously loud, metallic ringing that was sure to heed a warning to any large predator. She flipped and turned them by her wrist, holding them out in front of her as if she was ready to box the shit out of whatever was coming. _Silence_. She didn't like this at all. Whatever was there was probably looking straight at her. All around her laid shadows and more shadows. As she jumped onto the treasure, and shouted, "Show yourself!" After a while, a large hand grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down. Tsipporah freaked out and swiped her blade at whatever the hell thought grabbing her in her paranoia was a good idea. After feeling her blade making contact, she turned around… _it was Connor_. He didn't look amused to be swiped at and held it between his tomahawk and hidden blade. The scare in her died and she took back her weapon.

"Let me just start my three part apology by telling you that you're the greatest man I've ever known and the most decent human being ever to walk the earth—"

"Spare me. You were simply in the way." He brushed past her and pushed the lid of the stone chest, giving it a few good shoves. The young woman came beside him to help push off the lid and it worked faster. Enough of it was moved to see what was inside. The contents were that of gold coins, a large razor sword, but no map piece. Another strange chill ran up Tsipporah's side as she back away to look at the lid of the stone-chest and realized that this was no stone container but a sarcophagus. No wonder it looked pretty big even for a treasure chest. She went back into the chest before Connor could push it close.

"What are you doing?" he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

"Collecting loot," she took out a bag she kept down her boot and flapped it open, "I told you that I'm taking some for Kateri. I'm not leaving witho—_AHAHAA_! What the fuck is _that_? _What the fuu_—"she backed away from Connor and took her blades out. Connor, too, felt that he was being watched and looked over his shoulder. Behind him was a pair of piercing eyes in a light green that glared unblinkingly. He slowly went for his weapon, his hidden blade—anything he could reach first. Out of the shadows came a decorated staff that pointed to the novice and she flinched, cursing in horror. The jaguar that was with them the whole time came to center, purring in contentment. Soon, a figure showed itself from the shadows. Whoever this was, they were… head to toe adorned with Mayan tribal-wear. The headgear was of pictures that contained ceremonial events it seemed with green jewelry shining in the reliefs, the face was of markings and piercings, especially an intense piercing between the nostrils with a single gold short-stick; even the clothes were elaborate with leveled patterns and sun cycles as well as the moon. Looking closely, it was a woman and she gave an ungodly roar, similar to that of the jaguar, which went to her side.

"You are Ratonhnhaké:ton and Tsipporah?" she gazed at the two unnervingly.

"Are you the oracle that resides here?" Connor countered and she only turned her head to a quarter-view, keeping her eyes on him.

"I am the shaman of this temple. My name is Ixchel. A long way you have come, yes? You must be hungry. Come." She pointed her staff to go back outside and follow her. Ixchel easily jumped from the height Connor got himself injured from and landed without difficulty. Her animal companion followed and expected the others to do so, too. Comically, the assassin went back the way he came and left the novice where she was. She, too, gave up and pursued him. Once they came to the watered ground, the Mayan shaman led the way back to the forest where there were trees, flowers, and fruits flourishing, but another route was taken. The captain didn't want to take up much time and asked the oracle just what is it that no one of the Brotherhood knew about as they closed in on the canopy. She reached for some mangoes and ripped fresh ones, tossing them into the novice's open bag filled with gold.

"A Life That Is Scratched asks of many things. Why do you seek knowledge from an observer when you have an observer? She knows…" she stared at the novice. Honestly, she had no idea what she was referring to. What did she know that Connor did not know completely? The shaman took a mango and bite into it with her feral teeth. Tsipporah watched as the shaman ate, amazed by her teeth. They did not have the shape of omnivore molars at all. It was leaning more into that of the jaguar. No surprise there. She smacked her lips and looked to the novice and gestured her to eat.

"Do you not favor the fruit?"

"Hell yeah, I favor the mango!" she dug in, tired of having bread, butter, and meats every day. Connor balanced the weight of the mango in his hand and watched his observer eat messily. The juice kept spilling everywhere, eating it was a barbaric sport for her. He tried to not appreciate the memory of them playing lacrosse when they were younger and bite into the fruit. Even eating it in smaller bites, he learned, the fruit would still spill everywhere on his shoes and gave up on manners.

"Now that you are full, what you ask of me lies here—"she lifted the curtain of vines to an open area of the forest where the stone-ground continued into a big circle. The relief had folded forms of animals and people in a square shape that circled around a carved Mayan citizen into the middle. As it seemed, the citizen in this carving is… this shaman. Connor surely had a lot of questions as to what he was looking at. Unfortunately, the novice looked upon this relief and saw that it was all too familiar. Religious figures spat on its existence, scientists believed, and many people debated over whether it was true or not.

"This is our suns and moons, our stars and clouds. Here is our entire days filled with safety and protection of the gods," she smacked her lips from the fruit-juice, "I showed a young woman of this—Kaniehtí:io. She swore to keep this secret until she was to be with her partner in the Brotherhood. It was never told, sadly, but she did to her successor."

"Who?" Connor demanded and Ixchel's eyes stayed on the novice until Connor got the picture, looking at her, too.

"Wait… what? I… I don't understand."

"You may think it a dream because you were so young, but you were here once in that woman's village before the day of her end. On the third day, you were sent back to your time and heard terrible screams as you left."

"Stop!" she waved her hands, "What are you talking about?! Last time I visited this time was when I was fourteen as a freshman in high-school and now you're telling me that it was earlier than that…"

"Our minds have a way of deceiving you when one is but a year of five. You have seen each other before and it was a memory that the gods themselves chose to remove for their own purpose. They found it harmful for destined partners to know of each other so early." Okay. Now she knew she heard some crazy things from Juno at first and even more bizarre talk in video games, but now she's gone off the deep end. What more is there now to find out? But wait… is this the information that the Brotherhood did not know about…?

"She came to my village before it burned…" Connor whispered to himself as if the novice was at fault for his people's fate. "My mother always disappeared to the cliffs every afternoon when I was young and I can never remember why, but she was upset once I found out… I could never remember why…"

"Is this where my fear of climbing came from? I never thought about it, but then again… I thought it was because of a nightmare I had…" The shaman disagreed.

"Nightmare or a memory?" she poked the ground, "This calendar leads to the world's end and the two of you should know. Once that memory sequence is fully restored—the ones the spirits took from you—only then can the path clear to see and the truth revealed. You," she pointed to Connor, "There is an amulet that the Templars have in their hand. It belongs to the Eyes of the first Civilization. You must retrieve it from them for their dirty hands will diminish the power of the observers and those after you will not be able to maintain peace when your work is done. Your hands need to be stained with their blood in order for your people to thrive. The ground in the north is sacred—no outsider shall reach the sacred grounds. Any man, woman, or child who carries the face of the enemy must be brought down and skinned with no remorse… You must ready yourselves warriors. The path you will follow will be filled with darkness before the light is ever reached."

It was so much to absorb and so many warnings to heed. Leave it to the shaman to say that your hands have to be bloodied to move forward and all that cryptic shit. She thought this whole time that the whole Mayan calendar fiasco was bullshit, but it's not. The world really was going to be in peril by the 21st of December in 2012. Tsipporah wrapped her arms around herself as the shaman dumped more fruits into the bag, which would suffice for the crew. Connor had much on his mind as he looked through the calendar on the dates, now fearing for his comrade's life. She may have hidden things from him, but she still worried for him. He pretended to not care and knew that growing stronger on his own was essential, but should his novice go back to her time, she will befall a great demise. Perhaps a death more appalling than what his mother had suffered. He did not wish for such a thing to take form, not after he promised to protect her. Even in this situation, he still would for he is a man of his word and was still far from not forgiving her for her deceit.

"Do you know of Captain Kidd, honorable Shaman?" he asked. Her eyes softened at the mention and spat a mouthful of fruit from her mouth to the grass.

"I had lived a century back in order to meet him. He was a man of honor if not strange. I shared with him secrets of the Brotherhood and he joined as a recruit; I gave him a sacred piece belonging to the First Civilization as a gift. They cursed me with a life filled with many moons and sunrises that will never fill my mortal cup as punishment, and Kidd was left to rot in the forest of insanity. He knew this fate would come to him, so he hid the gift I granted him somewhere with riddles leading to it. Find it and no harm will come to you." Connor nodded and turned on his heel to the trees, not wanting to keep his first mate waiting. Tsipporah has seen that look in a woman's eyes before…

"You loved him," she concluded, "and shared secrets, so the First Civilization punished you."

"They punish the Eyes in many shapes in forms whether it be by this world or theirs. You are in love with the son of Kaniehtí:io and Haytham Kenway. If not you, then this world. You and I both know how the natives end—divided, destroyed, alone, and abandoned. Like my people here years ago."

"_No_. He's different," the novice picked up her bag, "He is determined to protect his village in earnest. Whether I like him a little too much is not the point. He will destroy the Templars' stronghold and I will be beside him no matter what the past, present, and future will have to say about it until the job is done. I'll have to see a lot of people I will grow to love die, I know that, but this is the turn of the century. I'll support him no matter what happens."

"Remember those words and you will be alright—The Eyes and the Brotherhood with whom I feared. Have courage and you will walk the right path." The novice mouthed thanks with gratitude and took the bag full of food, and gold, following her assassin back to the Aquila.

* * *

"You are late," Connor glared at his novice who was lugging around a bag of goodies. She said nothing but flashed a smile and threw her bag on the lifeboat and Faulkner rowed them back onboard. The whole ride was filled with quiet and instead of being full of regret; the novice was overflowing with some sort of pride. She had much to fear during these times, but it was this time of fear that prepared everyone to defend themselves and fight for their freedom. It was this time that set America for its independence and made it the supposed paradise that it is in her time. Her sister was right—to go back in the time of slavery would be wrong and everything their ancestors worked hard on would be undone. Her eyes kept to the horizon and finally looked to her partner.

"You were right, Connor," she started. Her 'boss' was no amused by this apology. He would hear no more attempts. Some crew members watched to see if their captain was going to forgive her this time, so men place their bets.

"I will not hear this—"

"Yes you will because I'm tired of saying I'm sorry just trying to get your attention than your forgiveness." She really was and sadly, it took a week-long trip to open her eyes not to her own compacted emotions, but to the truth. "I kept thinking that the things, the people, and the places you fight for don't matter because I'm from the future and I shouldn't care because I'm not a soldier and it's not my problem. Now I realize—I finally realized that I'm free because people like you existed; you, the Sons, your people, my people—everyone who's been turned by the British. The moment everyone took up arms was when… is when I remember how America was built… This is your home, but when I came to your 'home' when I was young, I thought I was better off on a boat floating into the Atlantic than to be free and still believed that until I met you. What I'm trying to say is—"

"There was never a need to apologize to me," he raised his hand against her mouth since it seemed like the most effective way to keep her from talking, "The only thing I require is your will to fight and let go of fear. I am forever in debt for saving me years ago, but whether it be cowardice or not, I wanted to know if you chose it just as I am to protect you." The novice tried not to cry. He was never mad at her this whole time? Her eyes started to water and her throat swelled with knots. Her chest became heavy and thought that she would fall apart on the spot. Connor lowered his hand from her mouth, astonished of the feelings he brought out of her. Her brows furrowed and shut her eyes, biting her lip so her tears wouldn't come. Now that she recalled, deep down, she never did cry as much as a child. Not even when she fell out of the roller-coaster or when she defended her brother and ruined her ankle. If it did happen rarely, she would hide as she did after the fight with Connor that happened nights ago. The men turned back to work, not wanting to see their manager in such a delicate state out of respect. Faulkner, too, kept his eyes to the sea and held the wheel to leave his captain alone.

"No one is watching you, Tsipporah," he passed his hand through her hair and pulled her in so no one could see her vulnerable face, "No one is watching." The moment she opened her eyes, searing tears spilled in a fountain in her hands. She wanted to say something, but knew her words wouldn't be coherent should she attempt. It was as if all those years of emotional build-up came exhaled from her eyes. This felt too embarrassing in her mind for she sounded like a hiccupping baby and wanted so much to mute herself if had such a remote to do so. The captain pulled her closer to him to muffle her cries on his shoulder. This reminded him all too well of how Kateri saw her father's burning body as he save his own nephew from being buried in the flames at his mother's request and presently, Connor found himself tightly embracing his novice. He loosened the grip to give her some dignity.

"You are difficult to trust, I will give you that much," he broke the hug to see her face that was relieved and defenseless, "Who will you choose to fight for, then?"

"What do you wanna hear?" she joked weakly and he gripped her shoulders.

"Who will you choose?" he pressed.

"For…" she thought, "For America—for what I know it can be." And he smiled at her. For once in her life, a boy naturally smiled at her and was proud of what she had to say. Tsipporah's old self started to come back even though her voice was rasping with tears.

"Please don't get all mushy and shit, man," she coughed a laugh, "It's already pretty gay that I started crying and now you're smiling? Stop it." She pulled his cheeks and he instantly grabbed her wrists, "Okay! Okay! I need those to kill and defend bro! _Jesus_…" And by the sound of that it seemed like everything was calming down between them according to the crew. The captain sighed and lent the novice a handkerchief and called orders to full sail and turn back up north where they needed the last piece of the puzzle. Once they had that, they can go to find Captain Kidd's treasure and in the oracle's testimony, she stated that it was of great importance—something they should pursue with haste before others found it, but… what of the fragmented memories she spoke of. So were his dreams as were hers memories of…?

Tsipporah always thought it was a dream: a tribal boy ran with an eagle and was at the height of the trees. A beautiful woman spoke sweet words to her—words she never knew and said that they are the "Eyes watching over"? Her mind was a bit clearer, but these deleted memories would pass in and out quickly. She would see to the truth of these dreams—this memory, but now she must focus on the present. There was a treasure to be found, treasures to be crafted, and treasures to be earned.

* * *

**So... now we're gonna have the treasure, the wedding, and more Templars! :D**

**I know some viewers thought they were going to be bros throughout, but things get topsy-turvy before Ms. McMakeLovin and Mr. McNasty can have their way. Especially since it's wartime. Anyway, see you all in the next chapter! Love you guys that read and follow!**

***Oh yeah... one more thing, my heart goes out to the parents, relatives, and anyone who lost a loved one in the Newtown Shooting. Much more love to those teachers and students.**

** US/shooting-connecticut-elementary-school-gunman-dead/story?id=17973836#.UMvuB-QmfIc**

**Repoze nan lapè.**** :'(**


	14. Chapter 14: Wellspring

_"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple."_

_― _**Dr. Seuss**_  
_

* * *

Alice kept to herself all week, fretting over the news that the city of Boston received of the tax inflammation as well as the regulars taking control of the of the establishments that the rebels started up until the Tea Party. On the downer, a Bostonian merchant by the name of John Hancock and Samuel Adams of the Sons of Liberty were charged as the "trouble-makers" along with the others. Her dear cousin's name didn't seem to come up as well as her friend's name. Good. There's nothing to fear and her allies were still incognito. The blonde came behind her, seeing the bride-to-be nose diving into the newspaper. She took a look around and saw that the surrounding forest was empty—a good time for goosing…

"I know you are there, Emily," Alice barely moved her eyes from the pages, "The Bostonians are in danger once more. We must act with the Sons." Angie wanted to help, but shook her head. Neither the assassins nor the observers can be in open conflict. Sure, they can aid the people now and then, but never _always_.

"Hey, babe, I know that you want to help people be free as you and the natives, but—"

"But what?" she looked to the Eyes.

"But… you have a wedding to plan and a dress to design! Your mother already has a whole pattern and rabbit skin up for you, yeah?" Alice narrowed her eyes and saw right through the blonde woman. There was something she wasn't telling her. It matters not for she did have a wedding to tend to. Her fiancé was ready to be married and she had a long way to go with her bridal preparations. Aghanashimi had a bare dress ready for her friends' artful ways of fulfillment. Alice scratched her head about what Tsipporah would make it look like.

"Yes," she nodded, "but my cousin and your accomplice are on a journey and shall come back within a day or two. It has been an entire month and I wish for them to return in one piece. They were tangled in a web of confusion and madness when they left this place—Homestead. We cannot allow our allies and our dear friends to dispute."

"I see what you mean there, babe," Angie scratched her chin and forced Alice on her feet, "but until then, let's worry about your wedding dress." The native woman made no effort to resist and followed what the blonde had suggested. There was much to do before the big day and all she had done was bury herself into the politics of the common colonist. If she were to dig in deeper, she would wedge herself between herself and her people. She smiled at her and led her to the direction of her village instead. Missing them these past days bore a hole into her heart that cannot be replaced. Ever since her mother came to the manor the winter before, an epiphany hit her that her mother was practically alone this entire time. Shame that her aunt was denied the place of Clan Mother and her own mother is now the first in line and her daughter after. Aghanashimi would rule in solitude should Kateri choose to stay with the colonists as "Alice". _No_… She must not forget her people. _She must never forget her people._

"Do you mind me seeing my people once again in a long time?" Alice pleaded.

"I'll go with you…" Angie's cheeks blushed as her eyes watered.

"Ms. Burke, are you—"

"I'm fine," she insisted, wiping her eyes as they continued into the woods, "It's just that I just remembered not ever saying anything to my dad back home before I left to come here with Sipsy. She told me that she told her siblings everything and said nothing much to her parents except that she had something important to do. The story she told was pretty cool…" she walked slower, "Sipsy said that she had to save the world with someone close to her heart."

"He is the same," Alice took the blonde's hand to pick up the pace.

* * *

At the docks of Homestead, some hours later came the fellow adventurers from their search of treasure, which they successfully discovered and collected. After the trip to the Mayan Ruins, the oracle pointed them to somewhere in the far north where another clue may lay. The captain was furious when Faulkner knew of what the shaman spoke of. They were at the North Pole and the novice barely said a word, not wanting to turn down the treasure hunt as it were. He braved through the snow, adaptable to harsh blizzards and sharp temperatures whereas the young woman was getting frostbites like hell. The piece they searched for was inside an abandoned ship that nearly sunk once the piece of the map was retrieved. Once that was out of the way, they were ready to find the prize at the final location: Oak Island. Decoding patterns with Eagle Vision, getting attacked by wolves, and nearly being crushed by rocks venturing underground, the two finally found the treasure that was… _not of glittering gold_.

"Connor," Tsipporah stepped onto the dock and waited for the crew to follow, "I think that's some kind of magical item to create barriers or something." What this 'treasure' was capable of was a mystery to her. Once the assassin had it in his hands, her blades chucked right out of her hand and Faulkner nearly lost his flask of alcohol. Speaking of the old man, he came down with the captain, who had enough of this first-name basis with his novice.

"Ms. Martel, I believe we made an agreement on how we should address each other?"

"Yeah…" she pouted, "What? You want me to call you Captain Kenway or some shit? I'm more concerned about what that little ring can do."

"That's a curious little piece isn't it? Well, I've worked my incredible and bottomless magic and that little thing is in fact of First Civilization origin." Faulkner joined in on the conversation to add his two cents. The novice raised her brows, remembering what Juno said about the abandoned projects they had planned for the world to contain later disasters. One of them was this special item used to repel… something.

"What was it used for?" the captain pressed and his first mate continued.

"It seems they used them as personal shields. It gives off a rather powerful electromagnetic field—explains its aversion to metal. Also explains why Kidd's legend tells of him being invincible. Having that trinket in your pocket would easily bend a musket ball's trajectory. Nifty little thing, really. Anyway, just thought you'd want to know, please carry on." The first mate waved and returned to his shed, downing his drink and left the two to return to the manor. Not much what a young woman of an open book would expect going 'home'. The assassin walked quickly to get to the patio and the novice was still some ways behind, walking leisurely. She took the air in differently and wanted to see her friends again—at least the neighbors about. She pulled out her bag of goodies and looked through the pieces of gold and some pieces of jade. Tsipporah yawned out of the blue and felt her entire body go limp as she did. Yeah, she should give herself a nap before she says 'hi' to anybody.

She heaved the bag over her shoulder and put pep to her step to reach the front door of her residence. Opening the door, she fell flat on her face with the bag bopping the back of her head. She was extremely grateful that minute when she shared most of the fruits with the crew-members on the Aquila, but already knew who was there hovering over.

"How you doing, Achilles?" she muffled as her head was still on the ground.

"If destroying the plot of the Templars is what you wish, I acclaim that you do it with thorough planning. I have a hot-head of a student if you have yet to notice. I only require for you to keep on his heels from now on. There's no telling what opposing forces may do to you both and the order we defend." The young woman stood up and held the bag in her hands, looking to the old man. His eyes were full of experience, his voice strong with conviction, and his body weary from past battles. The novice bit her bottom lip as she gazed at the elder, sensing his concern for his student.

"Chaos in Boston—I've heard since January. Should we be worried?"

"The colonists' struggle is our struggle as well. Should our enemies succeed, they might be able to claim this whole land as their own—executing each and every one of us in the most gruesome way. The French Queen will most likely be one if not you. I would be the first."

"Oh, don't say that," Tsipporah touched the old man's shoulder, "You're gonna rest in old age surrounded by neighbors, this manor, and fulfilling memories warm in his bed. Stop all this 'I'm gonna die a violent death'—"

"Maybe I was not clear enough when I said to you the first time you came. This is not some adventure that you can freely leave anytime you desire. This is a never-ending war and you weren't just invited. You are inevitably a part of this like Connor." He always seemed to remind her that this wasn't a game. She knew full well it was not, so why repeat it for her? Mainly for the same reason she was wide-eyed and innocent—they were still young. They were young when they started this and still young as they continued. She tried not smirk at the memory of him lecturing her and the assassin in training one day, long ago. The elder smacked the side of her head, seeing how she was nose-diving into her mind and ignore his words. He sighed and asked what they got from their little excursion.

"Something of the First Civilization—a shield they used to deflect metal with." Connor promptly exited his room and came down the stairs. As usual, the novice felt uneasy and swayed back and forth like a schoolgirl. There goes her stoic façade. Her face relaxed after a few minutes, though. Thank God.

"I believe you are expected at the wedding of your cousin, yes?" the mentor asked and the two nodded. "Well, I suppose if I keep you from your people, Alice's mother will not rest until she has my head. Go on then." Immediately, Tsipporah scooped the mentor in her arms and kissed his cheek that he allowed them to go their merry way, releasing him and skipping out the door. Connor and Achilles acted no different than before, only the old man was giving his esteemed pupil an inquisitive glance. The young man didn't flinch under the gaze.

"What on earth did you do, Connor?" he accused.

"She revealed confidential information that the observers held from the Brotherhood."

"You foolish boy…" he face-palmed, "The Brotherhood does not question the goals of the observers. They are the dogs of the Civilization! They are sent to complete their missions and watch us choose the correct path. Heed my warning, boy: getting involved with the observers will only put salt in your wounds."

"Salt in my wounds, old man? I have no wounds to infect!"

"Then why do you think your mother chose the route she followed? You'll doom yourself and your people if your emotions get involved with someone of a higher power. I suggest you pursue the road as an assassin as is your destiny, Connor." The corner of Connor's mouth twitched, wanting to spew words of venom to the old man for bringing up his mother so easily. He even had the nerve to say that he got 'emotionally involved'. Was there a problem in getting along with his companions? He was always close to his recruits and her—Tsipporah—called him on many occasions a "_hero_". Deep down, all he knew was that once he was allowed to leave his village, he felt that if he did not stand up for his village, then who would? Ever since his mother's death, he would fight for the innocent. When he explained himself in earnest to the novice, she simply called him a "Big Damn Hero"—whatever that meant to her. Many times he reminded her that he was but a simple man who just wished for honest freedom and would stand for injustice; and many times over she debated that wishing for such things are not so simple, which did not make him a simple man.

"I am pursuing the road of an assassin, old man. I shall see you in the evening." And with that, he left the manor, not looking back. He had changed out of his captain uniform long before and into his standard white hood with weapons at his side. It suddenly occurred to him that long ago, his partner carried none and required constant protection. She whined just about everything that crawled in the forest—moose, bears, wolves… the usual. Even as they were attacked by wolves on Oak Island, she did better than she did long ago. Her blades tossed and stabbed without mercy or hesitation. He couldn't help but feel some pride in her progress of character.

"You still out here, man?" the novice snapped him from his thoughts as she found him near the cliffs, "Are you going to see your cousin, too? I figured I should give these and fix her dress before I really rest. Otherwise I won't be sleeping so easy." Connor said nothing, searching up and down this young woman. Somehow, she seemed to glow in his eyes and wasn't sure if it was just her change in attitude or his Vision acting up.

"I must see Kanen'tó:kon to wish him a great deal of luck. I am aware that my cousin has not completed her dress for the occasion."

"That's why Angie and I are helping. I've done projects that lasted for two weeks and finished on point. I just can't find good eagle feathers for her hair, though." Tsiporah passed her fingers lightly at her own feathers that were pinned in her hair. Even after all this weather change and rough conditions, they still remain fresh and crisp. It often sparked curiosity on how Connor keeps looking for these feathers that came in large sizes. Such information would be useful for when Kateri needed a bridal-hairpiece.

"You were serious about using the gold for her dress, then?"

"Duh. Where I'm from, brides have to look expensive."

"Such is not necessary," he huffed, "This is about union, not profitable value of one's clothing."

"Connor…no, fuck you. It is to girls. Watch, when we do up her shoes in white and get her all pretty, you won't be able to say anything and neither will her tubby-hubby."

"We shall see, then. My only concern is of their future. She spoke of having an abundance of children—"

"I want one to be named after me!" she jumped in place. Connor just walked off and latched onto the cliff-side and the novice yelled after him, throwing stones in a fit for leaving her almost far behind.

* * *

_The day had come_. There were many months of planning and many days of… _bridezilla_. Once Kateri realized how much preparation time was lost due to her involvement with the colonists, she nearly lost her mind trying to catch up. For days, she spent on remembering all that was required of a Mohawk wife and the duties she is to perform for her people should her mother one day pass. The two observers couldn't leave her alone now after all the fretting their friend has cried out. Her cousin, of course, still aided in any way he could, but knew that there were other things to accomplish. Her mother and the novice helped in designing the dress. Like the artist she is, she pulled out her sketchbook and asked the bride how she wanted her dress since they had all the materials to make it. When Kateri answered with, "Surprise me", Tsipporah gave a Cheshire smile and a bridal look to blow her mind. She knew that her mother wanted something traditional as do her cousin and tribesmen, but she wanted something fun and form-fitting.

Angie laughed at the choice of words and taste between the bride, the groom, and the entourage. Putting the groom aside, she folded the patches of rabbit skin and constantly asked what the entourage and the bride would agree on for the look. There were so many trials with this that even the tribesmen tried to design the dress, causing anger to squall within the observer. After her outbursts, they completely backed off and Kateri finally had a dress to surprise her husband with. When Connor tried to see what Tsipporah had finished before the official day, she wagged her finger, saying that would be spoiling the good part.

Kateri woke with a start, restless to see her groom since the girls said it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony. The sun was barely up and the group of women, including her housemate in Homestead, reminded her to calm down and remember the steps in the Great Feather Dance. Angie studied the Rabbit Dance as a freshman in dance and was permitted to join while… the novice was told to sing. God damn it, why did she agree to that? She never sang in public except for when she had to back her theatre friends as an understudy. It wasn't her major, but still…

"Okay, people!" Myriam clapped, "We need to get to the Mohawk village early. We don't have that much time." She helped the novice gather the bridal supplies and gown to go out with. For months now, they've climbed the same cliffs over a hundred times, consulting. The observer ranted to herself once that she should get paid to do this. Upon reaching the village, Aghanashimi stood sternly as the girls came near and waved her hand to get to inside quickly. It was as if they were hiding from the men, of course. She made sure that Kanen'tó:kon stayed inside another longhouse as Kateri was to ready herself before Clan Mother. The elder of the village was ecstatic of this day. Her grandchild was to be married at last and the noblemen would witness this event. She warned the novice not to draw or sketch what she would see this day for in their culture, a union like this was to be remembered in the peoples' hearts. She had no choice but to oblige as she agreed to follow the customs of the tribe in the past.

"(Doesn't she look pretty, Clan Mother?)" The novice asked, "(I designed the dress myself and everyone pitched in.)"

"(No, not pretty—beautiful. She looks just as bright and full of love as her mother did on her wedding day. She was so nervous that she could not breathe a word, but her heart was full.)" Angie and Myriam had no idea what they were saying, but knew that the Clan Mother was glad to see Kateri like this. They moved about the bride, fixing her hair, pulling her shoes on, fitting the dress, and so on.

"Oh yeah, Connor wanted you to have this Alice," Myriam smiled brightly and placed large feathers into the smooth, silky curls of her roommate. The young bride did not see what it was, but wept a little knowing what it was that rested in her hair. He always made sure that they were the finest ones in the Valley. Such were difficult to find because they were either too far off the ground or into the branches of the cliffs or beyond the boundaries of their home. The novice had to strap on the dress most of the time since she was the one that sewed it and others just added accessories. The gold coins and jade pieces were used to hang of the seams and swags, while left over pieces were crafted into jewelry by the mother. Kateri's hair was tied by several ribbons coated with pomade to unravel curls should the ribbons be removed—something they learned from the French Queen. It took some time over to finish because the artist didn't want her work to get ruined and Angie stopped her worrying since they had a deadline.

"(The ceremony must begin and the men must be ready. Kateri, you and your party must depart so the guests may come in.)" the Clan Mother ordered and took the rest of her friends outside. They were getting antsy after a while and a voice caught them off guard.

"(Kateri? Is that you?)" Connor called out wearing his tribal clothing of animal skins and beaded armlets. The girls, too, had to wear something akin to the tribe's fashion so they weren't complete outsiders. The novice was back in her old dress she wore before, only now it had more beaded patterns.

"(Ratonhnhaké:ton!)" His cousin ran and tackled him into a hug, joyous that he would come on such a glorious day. It even seemed that the weather was in favor this day, too. She stepped back to see her dear cousin in the clothes he was well-suited in.

"(Kanen'tó:kon will surely be stunned to see you like this)," he commented, "(Where have the years gone?)"

"(We must look ahead, Ratonhnhaké:ton. You always told me this, yes? Now come for we have a ceremony to wait for. Have you seen your companion? She looks beautiful as well—)"

"Hey!" the novice interrupted, "It's your day, Kateri, not mine. Telling me I'm beautiful. Thank you, but you're the star with your groom—not me. Thank me during reception. _Please_." She didn't want to say much, since they were out on the grass and Kateri wasn't allowed to sit down as the novice warned if she wanted to keep her ovaries inside her body to breed. As expected, her native friends were terrible with sarcasm and she stood like her life depended on it. Turning her attention back to the other girls, Connor took the opportunity to see his companion back in her native-style clothes. The dress came about her curves perfectly and her legs were nice and shapely. A couple of times he even accidentally gazed upon her rear and thought that it wasn't that big when they were younger, but—

"(What are you looking at, cousin?)" Kateri was following his eyes and he brought her to face him again.

"(_Nothing_. Absolutely nothing.)" His cousin raised a brow, dissatisfied with that answer. Before she could reply her mother called for her and her party to sit inside because they were starting soon. They obeyed and went ahead and the novice punched the assassin lightly on the arm for checking her out. She looked over her shoulder in seconds, wondering if Connor was truly looking at her. When she looked again, she found out he was and felt her heart race, so she played it off by punching him the arm—noting that she caught him in the act.

Inside Clan Mother's longhouse was just about everyone in the village and some others the girls did not recognize. Aghanashimi whispered to them that they were the people of Kahnawake, or the village that her husband was born and raised in—which laid in Quebec. The place was packed and room was made for the girls to sit as the bride waited for her signal to enter. The groom and his mother were already there. He wore white and decorative embellishments of feathers and feather-quills with beaded accessories. As the bride and her mother made their entrance, a lump formed in Kateri's throat as she saw how handsome her groom was on this fine day. She tried with all her might not to drop the wedding basket from her hands. Tears almost threatened to spill and she sucked some air in as the reality hit her—_she is to be married to the love of her life_. Tsipporah squirmed in her seat when she saw the bride cry and tried to look dignified at the same time. It was like watching a special on TLC or something. Watching her friend go up the aisle to be beside her loved one really did take off the idea that she was single. Times like these, she would pull out her camera to take non-flash pictures of the venue, but that's impossible for _many _reasons.

The mothers sat next to their matured children at the center of the room on a wooden bench before the Clan Mother and the Council of Chiefs. They addressed the ceremony by speaking of the duties that the couple must perform for each other as well as the community and then they spoke of the blessings of marriage. Angie and Myriam had no idea what was going on and Tsipporah waved them off, whispering that she'll translate later. The elders then asked the mothers questions of their children should they marry or not. If even one question was a "no", then the entire ceremony would stop and everyone would have to go home. Luckily, Kanen'tó:kon's mother happily said yes, but with Kateri's mother, she said yes and a bunch of snarky comments:

"(_What is your daughter's name_?)"

"(Kateri—a simple name unlike the ones my sister give.)

"(_What clan does your daughter belong to_?)"

"(Kanatahséton. I thought you knew that already.)"

"(_Do you think that your daughter is capable to fulfill the responsibility of marriage_?)"

"(Well, yes. Do you think I'd let a wedding go down if I did not?)"

"(_Are you satisfied with your daughter's choice_?)"

"(I seriously thought she would marry a white man, but yes. I am satisfied.)"

"(_If some hard times come, and your daughter and her husband become homeless, would you open your home to them and any children until they are able to get back on their feet_?)"

"(Yes. I just hope it's not children numbering from six or ten, then I wouldn't have enough room.)"Thankfully, both mothers agreed on the marriage and the same questions dragged onto the bride and groom. The elongation of the ceremony was killing Angie who wanted nothing more than to just swim in a glass full of ale or a pot full of alcohol—or maybe even puff-puff-pass. _Anything for cocktail hour._ Kateri's answers were even more predictably comical:

"(_Are you prepared to be the wife of the man that you have chosen for the rest of your life_?)"

"(I am also prepared for wedding consummation.)"

"(_Will you prepare food for your husband and children_?)"

"(I will try my best.)"

"(_Will you care for your husband if he becomes ill_?)"

"(Once I get a doctor in Homestead, but sure…)"

"(_When it is dinner time and your children are out playing with other children, you are to call all the children in to eat and if they have soiled faces you will wash their faces as if they all were your children. Do you accept this responsibility_?)"

"(Absolutely, unless there's a chance where I'll have to straighten one kid out by tossing them back into the mud and let another mom deal with it.)

"(_As a wife and mother it's your responsibility to prepare and bring your children to all ceremonies. Also marriage is a partnership and no one has the authority over the other, you don't dominate your husband nor does he dominate you_.)"Then the bride and groom exchanged their baskets when they were requested to. Kateri's basket contained some clothing and Kanen'tó:kon's carried a delectable pastry. According to what the Clan Mother said months before, he carried a cake made of white corn and strawberries. Tsipporah asked her friend beforehand what the cake tasted like if she'd ever eat one in the ceremony. The only response she received was that if she was truly curious, then she should marry and learn of its sweetness. The novice shrugged that time, flipping the bird. When the ceremony finished, Myriam and Angie rubbed their eyes from exhaustion. The whole thing seemed to drag on forever for them since they didn't know any Mohawk speak. Many of the tribesmen congratulated the couple and the mothers sincerely.

"(Are you going to eat that?)" The novice pointed to the cake and the guests laughed, "(I am serious. If you're going eat that, then eat it now. Shame your husband made it look nice, too.)" It was sort of strange to refer to Kanen'tó:kon as "husband" rather than a common friend. Oh, well, she'll get over it. Her two friends happily married finally. Such an occasion took place several times once she and Angie graduated high school. Many of her friends had to announce on the internet how they were engaged and married only to revert back to being single. It was so annoying, but things weren't like that here. No one shouted from the rooftops about how in love they were and how complicated their relationship got. The people here were calm and collected, keeping to themselves. Her friends loved each other since they were young. It boggled the novice on how, in these troubled times, these two would find such joy in each other. The whole venue was rearranged for the reception where there would be songs, dances, a feast, and open conversations. Of course, the blonde was pissed that there was no alcohol or drugs and openly complained to her accomplice of how there was no way she was going to party with no booze or drugs.

"Shut up and enjoy the wedding," Tsipporah grabbed her by the shoulders; "You're supposed to stay and do the dance anyway. I mean… honestly, I can't sing without you here."

"Don't give me that," she sucked her teeth, "You're singing a love song. You don't need friends all around you. You just let it all come from the heart and let yourself light up with…" Angie knew her friend was going to kick her in the shins for saying the 'L' word.

"You were gonna say 'love', right?" the novice said deadpanned and suddenly didn't want to sing anymore.

"Don't be like that, babe! This is a wedding! You don't sing Mariah Carrey without thinking about love. No way in hell are you gonna dumb down passion when you know what Kateri's gonna be up to later tonight!" Angie kept shaking her friend, lecturing her to really feel the song than just sing like it's nothing. Facial expressions, gestures, acting and movement, volume and pitch with word clarity—_can fake it all the time_. This isn't the first time she was told to feel. She could always fake her emotions at home; it's where all her sarcasm laid, but when she came back to 1770, things were different. When she saw that deer, she wept; when she met Ratonhnhaké:ton, she wasn't sure, but later grew to l… to lo…

"No, fine!" she gave up, "For Kateri, anyway."

"Good girl. I gotta rabbit dance after the Great Feather Dance, so see ya!" the blonde left to the outside of the longhouse to get into her costume together. The young woman leaned against the wall, not wanting to socialize after that. She could've sworn that a blood vessel in her head was going to pop, so she closed her eyes. There was food passed around and an announcement for the bride and groom's dance. Handmade cups of pottery were passed around and the only thing that Tsipporah thought at that moment was that there needs to be some strong alcohol. Not that she frequently drank strong drinks, but rarely did when she sank into her thoughts about certain people. The next thing she knew, the crowd was cheering, the newlyweds and young children came out, and they were all dancing in synchronicity. One could tell this was rehearsed, but they still had fun. They were spinning and chanting with such jubilant movement. Once it ended, and then came the Rabbit Dance and a piece of the wedding cake to the novice's surprise. She almost forgot all about it. Her hand reached out for the piece given to her and stopped when she realized who was giving her the piece.

"So what are you singing?" Connor faintly smiled.

"A funeral march…" she stuffed her face with cakes and kept her eyes looking at him straight on, "Don't even worry about it. It's a song dedicated to the bride and groom. I thought long and hard about this choice of music because I didn't want a beat that would offend anyone."

"You will not offend anyone," he assured, "My people welcome you here and will never close their arms to you. You helped with a great favor."

"And what's that? Really, what makes me so simpatico with you guys?" was it the Boston Tea Party or some other political thing she unknowingly got involved in?

"According to Clan Mother, you are afraid of this tribe to disperse."

"What…?" she drew a logical map in her head in an instant, "Oh, I see. I followed the customs, saved you, helped those two marry—am I a member of the tribe now?" Connor shook his head and looked to Angie who was halfway through the dance. It didn't look like he was going to answer her question, so she watched her friend dance her heart out. She felt the air still as she saw her friend dance with every bit of emotion she could muster. The blonde allowed all of her body to fly and it was such a flight that cultivated envy in the novice every time. Her life up until she came to the American Revolution was passive and didn't care that much, knowing that there was always going to be something to miss in life. Oddly, in the midst of her thoughts, she realized that her head was leaning on Connor's shoulder. She made a move to look up to him and also saw in that moment just how tall he truly is. His chin was right over her head and the lot of him was firm. A content sigh passed her lips and she was abruptly shaken off.

"It is your turn to perform, Tsipporah," he turned to lift her head. She seriously was fatigued the past few months. She blinked a few times and nodded to go to the stage. Her breaths were labored as she was before the people of the flint. Her friends were in the crowd, watching her intensely. After another breath, she pondered on her friends words:

_Heartbeats fast_  
_Colors and promises_  
_How to be brave_  
_How can I love when I'm afraid to fall_  
_But watching you stand alone_  
_All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow_  
_One step closer_

_I have died everyday waiting for you_  
_Darling don't be afraid I have loved you_  
_For a thousand years_  
_I love you for a thousand more_

_Time stands still_  
_Beauty in all she is_  
_I will be brave_  
_I will not let anything take away_  
_What's standing in front of me_  
_Every breath_  
_Every hour has come to this_  
_One step closer_

_I have died everyday waiting for you_  
_Darling don't be afraid I have loved you_  
_For a thousand years_  
_I love you for a thousand more_

_And all along I believed I would find you_  
_Time has brought your heart to me_  
_I have loved you for a thousand years_  
_I love you for a thousand more…_

Well, as if she was going to sing something completely coated in romantics. Angie picked this song out herself since the novice would always hum this out loud when she was out in the forest. Fortunately, the most of the tribe did speak English, so they understood on some level. Angie had to play the tribal flute and another younger native give played drums. This felt so different. The moment the young woman opened her mouth to sing, moments of her life here took on form and her heart was fluttering as it did. No one else was there—it was just her. There were stars overhead, fantasies unraveling, and twilight dancing at her feet. Then a figure appeared before her. She reached out to touch him, but he dissipated as the last of the melody left her spirit and the song was over…

Out of nowhere, there was ululating that tore her away from her mind and back into reality. The newlyweds, especially, were pleased with the enigmatic song that spoke of love. Tsipporah exhaled and bowed to her spectators, and curtsied to the sweethearts before leaving to her seat, receiving pats on the back and to her hair as she came.

"Hey, babe," Angie wrapped her arms around her friend, "Oh my God, you were feeling it tonight. I think you went to the spirit world or some shit when you moved around."

"I was moving around?" she paled.

"Hey, it was a beautiful thing. The wedded couple loved it. Kanen'tó:kon said it looked like you were flying." The novice gave a wry laugh when she mentioned this. She supposed she should feel such pride for pouring her emotions into a song for the love birds' sake. They deserved the best, didn't they? More members from Kanhawake came to speak to her and thank her for singing such wonderful melodies to bless the couple with. The blonde would concur, but what is a blessing to the couple or herself? She moved about as if she was the one in love and not the married ones. A smile formed on her lips as she mused of this. After Connor wished his two friends the best of luck, he turned to Clan Mother to wish her a good night.

"(Returning to your post, I see? You should take your accomplices with you.)"

"(They may stay as long as they wish)," he countered, "(There are things that I must prepare for, so I must leave.)" the elder woman nodded, knowing that she couldn't force him to stay if she tried. The young man left through the back and kept his path to the forest until he would eventually reach Homestead. As he reached the front entrance, he heard his name called in his tribe's tongue and turned to see who it was. In his understanding, there was only one who said his name in such a dulcet tone as if his own name was a song on their lips.

"(Ratonhnhaké:ton)," the figure that came to him was his own partner, "(You are leaving already? I can get Angie because there is absolutely no booze or drugs; she has no reason to stay at all.)"

"(And you? Are you staying?)" His eyes stared, unblinking. Such a look unnerved her.

"(Well… I know Kateri would want me to get some rest if I had something important to do, but…)" she bit her tongue, "(Did you like the reception?)"

"(It was fair—)"

"(What? I actually put some effort to make everyone feel welcome! Don't say it was 'fair'. I don't see you going up there and singing or dancing for the couple. Even in the line dances, you stayed your back against the wall as everyone pranced. You're too serious, man.)"

"(Hmph. Well, I must be off. I almost lost track of time—)"

"Oh my God!" she jumped in place and pulled her hair, "Achilles is by himself! I've been treating him like a piece of meat this whole time! All this training and I'm just sitting here having parties with friends in troubled times! My God, I am such a pathetic American…" Connor tried to keep to himself as she exclaimed her sorrow for the old man. He feared not for the solitude—such was his companion long before they met him. Really, now he deemed himself to leave his village and return to Homestead. He went through the entrance, not checking behind him for anyone following and proper that he didn't, too. The novice watched as he leapt into the trees and away. The chambers in her chest tugged and rocked against her stomach, causing a storm of nausea within her. Maybe she should follow him? She's his observer. To follow him would be doing her job. However, to follow him like this would see her pursuing him sentimentally. It was just as the Christmas party where she left with mixed feelings. Connor was no different as he was at the top of the cliff where the stars were and the night blanketed the frontier. He thought twice about staying with the novice since she enjoys the company of his people like a natural bond. Everyone there adored her; he was proud of that. Aghanashimi no longer held hatred and disdain for him or those of Homestead. She slowly understood the struggles of the colonists, although, she would not embrace them so steadfastly. Things seemed to go well in relations, if not politics. He still had some loose ends. Connor adjusted his gloves and kept moving.

…..

Later that night, as the party ended and their neighboring clans were seen home, the newlyweds were left to consummate in one of the longhouses secured for such an exploit. The bride's heart was beating fast in anticipation as did her groom. They looked around the room of the tranquility of night, eager to start, but hesitated to begin. All of their culture and customs laid here in unity. What they were about to do was not of just themselves, but for the growing community. The groom knew this much as looked to his love—they were no longer young. They would join in flesh and create an abundance of more tribe members.

"(Do you like it?)" Kateri spun slowly, "(Tsipporah made it as mother allowed it. Very crafty, she is. She thought you'd like it and—)" her breath was tangled into a strong, whimsical capture of her lover's lips as he wrapped his arms around her. Her vision blurred until all she could see was the love of her whole life.

"(I like the dress, but I love you)," Kanen'tó:kon broke the kiss and brushed back his wife's curls from her face, "(Did you enjoy yourself tonight?)"

"(Yes)," she whispered in her bewilderment, "(Surrounded by friends, family, and now it's you and I.)" Her eyes glazed over and her body froze, waiting to be taken. Her husband obliged, kissing her lips softly, gradually deepening the kiss in passion as she requited the feel. Kateri's arms almost weaved around his neck, but she paused as she felt the strapping of her dress being loosened. He kissed at her neck as a momentary distraction as her dress fell to the ground, exposing all of her slender bodice. She backed from his touch to rid herself of the accessories and headpieces, dropping them on the ground and kicked them to the side.

"(Now it is your turn)," she circled around him provocatively, "(Either I shall do it normally, in one sweep, or with my teeth. What say you, darling?)"

"(I say if multitasking is your specialty, then do as you please, but I am taking the top.)"

"(No dominance in marriage, remember? We shall take turns.)" She purred and began her creative works…

* * *

A week passed and nothing had changed in the Frontier, save for the passing bandits who were desperate for money, food, and valuable belongings. Myriam was glad that her mate was off on her honeymoon with her husband and didn't have to deal with this nonsense. It was frustrating having to put up with the foolishness of the common man. Here, they were to find an open community and peaceful parts, but later in the month they would be visited upon by hooligans. Hunting out in the woods took a lonely turn with merchant of furs. She walked in the woods alone and sometimes brought the novice along if she had spare time, but it was solitude for days with her. As the days passed, more people came to live in Homestead. Among them was a man that went by the name of Maurice. Connor saved him from the bashing of bandits and Englishmen. She cared not for him and thought him a weakling for getting pushed around. This man was also stubborn as he met Myriam one day. It was that one day he tried to speak to Myriam that sparked some recognition from Angie. To the novice's relief, it got her off of her back for once about trying to crush on the assassin.

Tsipporah, on the other hand, paid more attention to Achilles. His personality was still intact if not his health. Connor was right for his health wasn't so good and the nursemaid confirmed it. He still had more years left and those years must be filled with little anguish and pain. That could not be so. It was a distant dream in reality. Who was she kidding? This is the American Revolution; no one was safe or at peace and the Templars was still at large. As long as they breathed each day, no one was safe.

"Your superiors will grow impatient if you keep your agenda unchecked," Achilles warned as he sat at the dining room table in the morning, "Child, how long do you believe you can keep this up?" It almost sounded like a scowl to the novice. She could not move unless Connor moved. She knew that…

"I have no idea what goes on in his head, Achilles. It drives me nuts to stand still here. We found something valuable of Kidd's, but he still prances around, bringing more people to Homestead. Just last week he brought in a girl and her mother who owns a fabric store. He upped the ledger, though, and recorded all that's happening here…" talking about what he wasn't doing gave her chest pains beyond description. Any day now, she would have grey hair sprouting from her scalp. "Where is he now anyway?"

"In the basement as usual," the elder sighed, "I gave you two warnings; heed them."

"It's not my problem. I have been listening to you, but my course of action must reflect his course of action. I can't move unless he does, man. I'm a pawn in this! Do you know how frustrating it is to sit still and have fun when there's a war just happening miles away? Ugh!" A loud knock at the door sounded through the house and even startled the maid. She was about to open the door, but the visitor already made his way through. To Tsipporah's dismay, it was the newlyweds. Were they already done with the honeymoon? No, their faces were pale with worry and called to their companions.

"Tsipporah! Oh my goodness, where is my dear cousin?!" Kateri grabbed Tsipporah by the arms and shook her with urgency, "Something terrible has happened!"

"Ratonhnhaké:ton! _Ratonhnhaké:ton_!" Kanen'tó:kon sounded his voice through the manor and Connor ran up from the basement, knowing the cries. There, he saw his friend with fear in his eyes as if all hope was lost. Just weeks ago, they were happy and festive and now there was a complete mood whiplash.

"Kanen'tó:kon? Why are you here? Has something happened?"

"Willaim Johnson has returned with all the money required to buy our land. He meets with the elders as we speak. I have begged them to resist, but I fear he shall have his way unless you intervene." Kateri buried her tears into the novice's shoulder and she stilled. Yeah, she knew this going to happen eventually. It was a matter of time before the Templars moved.

"How is this possible? We destroyed the tea!" Connor argued.

"The Templars are nothing if not resourceful. You should have heeded my warning."

"What he said," the novice said deadpanned, "What now boss?"

"Please, you have to stop him," Kanen'tó:kon led the group outside to follow him.

"Of course. Can you tell me where they are meeting?"

…

"(Johnson Hall is just across the river. The water is well guarded, Ratonhnhaké:ton.)"

"(Wait here for me)," Connor nodded to observer, "(Come, Tsipporah. We have a job to do.)" She shrugged at his command. He spoke to her as if she was the one lazing around—it pissed her off. Kateri sat by her husband's side, quietly as she watched her friends depart into the trees. The two jumped from branch to branch, latching onto every crevice that was sturdy and durable until they reached the mossy edge of the cliff. Johnson hall was nearby. It bothered to two to know that such a mansion was so close to Homestead and Kanatahséton. There were henchmen walking about in the open, too. Maybe five or six walking around looking bored as hell. _Perfect_.

"So what's the plan, boss-man? Plant bombs and traps or brush each other's hair and plan another wedding?"

"You speak as if I have done nothing this entire time."

"Like six months here without spilling much blood wasn't much of a chore, dude."

"Enough of your ranting, novice."

"_Novice_? **Boy**—I'll deal with you later. We're supposed to be stealthy about this. Keep beating around the bush and I'll just go back."

"Then go," he pressed forward, jumping off the edge and into the water. Tsipporah sucked her teeth in and jumped after, holding her breath. The moment they hit the water, they would have to sit under for five minutes before rising to lower suspicion. The wait was annoying and the young woman hated this cold water in her ears, her hair, and her clothes—any longer and she could have a yeast infection. She didn't want to open her eyes lest the dirty water would stain her vision, so she waited on Connor to move first. It felt like hours before they rose silently to the surface again to swim to the other side. The assassin waved his hand for her to stay close… like there was another option.

"Move slowly," he warned.

"Don't worry, babe, I'm as quiet as a fish," whatever that meant. Fish don't make noises, right? _Right._ That was a terrible joke and Connor knew it. Once the two got out of the water, the young man gave a nearby enemy a shank and covered his mouth until he stopped breathing. It's been a while since they had to do stealth kills. Tsipporah almost failed a headlock and got punched in the face. The whole mix-up almost had Connor coming between them, but a punch to the face angered her. She took that henchman's face and banged it on her knee, breaking the man's nasal cavity before spun his head like The Exorcist. All that repressed energy to fight and kill suddenly burst out of her. When she saw what she did, she shook her head and wall-ran the cliff.

"My God," she whimpered, "I'm turning into a killing machine…"

"We are to kill but we are still human; never forget that."

"Uh, right… human…" more like her humanity was slipping out the window each time she stained her hands with blood. It was uncomfortable every time. She thought she could get used to it, but, _no_. Nothing was humane in—_Wait a minute_. Was she really worrying over enemy lines? They are in a restricted area and these regulars are working for the man who would buy her friends' land. She owes them everything. Small mercy would serve no justice. The two finally reached the top of the cliff where more guards were. Connor's people were up there—he could feel it. The air felt hostile and eerily noiseless, but for how long? _How long until there would be musket firing_? Seemed like their questions would be answered a second too soon as they closed in on the Templar's property and the novice had an idea; risky one that Connor almost detested, but had to go along with if this kill was to succeed.

* * *

"Sir!" some regulars dragged a figure to Johnson's way as he was still speaking to the elders of Mohawk Valley. The man's eyes turned to them, hoping that it was news beyond urgency. Clearly, they had an intruder with them and the elders were worried to see who had interceded. They hoped to not see her here in this place of all places. The old men started cursing more of her safety being jeopardized and Johnson approached her, lifting her chin.

"Nice of you to join us, Eyes. You'll be kept inside and stay quiet, I hope."

"_Get off their land, you son of a bitch_!" the butt of a musket hit her jaw, causing her to stumble. The elders grew hostile in their seats and the Templar tried all he could with fancy words to keep them quiet as two or three muskets were pointed to their fellow novice.

"Peace! Peace! Have I not always been advocate? Have I not always sought to protect you from harm?"

"If you wish to protect us, then give us arms—muskets and horses that we might protect ourselves!" The elder countered, unmoved.

"War is not the answer."

"Of course it was when you brought your ideals to this land." The novice spoke out and a got put in a full nelson.

"We remember Stanwix! We remember you moved the borders! Even today your men dig up the land—showing no regard for those who live upon it. Your words are honeyed, but false. We are not here to negotiate or sell. We are here to tell you and your men to leave these lands." The novice mentally celebrated in her mind that the elders did not want to sell, but it was short-lived.

"So be it. I offered you an olive branch and you knocked it from my hand. Perhaps you'll respond better to the sword." As he said so, his men took up bayonets and muskets in the direction of the natives.

"Are you threatening us?"

"Yes." And the rifle was loaded and ready to be fired, but the novice quickly acted to defend them. She threw the men who held her back and threw herself in front of the endangered native. The opposing men were not amused, but Johnson praised her for her heroism that was soon to die along with her. He warned that if she does not join him, then she will die.

"Did you forget that I know something about you? If you even touch _any_ of them, your campaign will end and your men will one day feel my wrath."

"Wrath you say? What can someone of your stature can do for men like them. In fact, why do you stand with men like them? You are a woman of color wearing native valuables on her back. Is the land you want as well? Food? Shelter? Were you promised with some greater of their sacred secrets?"

"No. I saw the true beauty of their culture and you are not going to take their home whether you like it or not. Now get your red coat outta here, lookin' like Little Red Riding Hood lost in the fucking woods." She hissed at his face and he shook his head sternly. "Ah, so you are no stranger to them but a member of their tribe as well," he turned to the elders, "Thought you might send one of your own to oppose me? An unwise decision, as you'll now learn!" The novice backed away from him with a sadistic smile, knowing of what's to come for him any moment—**STAB**! …_Well, that escalated quickly_. It was her turn to work then so no one would interfere.

She rubbed her hands together just as musket balls nearly came Connor's way and froze everything until the entire landscape was enveloped in white digital particles that swayed and moved about. Juno taught her this as she was back in her own time once. This wasn't the nexus but a place that an observer could take her assassin should they kill their target. It was so surreal to do so. It almost felt like a world she could manipulate to a fault. Johnson looked around as his breath was drowning in his own blood.

"Ah, no. What have you done?" he choked and Connor came around to reclaim his hidden blade.

"Ensured an end to your schemes. You sought to claim these lands for the Templars…"

"Aye. That we might _protect_ them!" Wait a minute… Wha—? _Wait a minute_… "Do you think the good King George lies awake at night hoping that no harm comes to his native subjects? Or that the people of the city care one whit about them? Oh, sure, the colonists are happy to trade when they need food or shelter or a bit of padding for their armies. But when the walls of the city constrict—when there's crops that need soil—when there's… when there's no more enemy to fight—we'll see how kind the people are then." Sadly there was some truth to what he was saying because that is the future she came from. When one land mass wasn't enough America took more. That is why there was war starting with old men talking and young men dying. It was a fight she wanted to take no part in. Connor countered, speaking of how the colonists had no quarrel with the Iroquois and that Johnson was not saving his people but choosing to slaughter them. They would not listen; what choice did he have? He exhaled and closed his eyes eternally with Connor praying for his safe passage into the spirit world. Tsipporah did not feel at all proud of this kill.

"We still have more to kill, Connor. You get out of here and go to Homestead. I'll make sure nothing happens to the elders."

"You do not give me orders, Tsipporah."

"Don't give me that. You need to be safe and I don't want anything to happen to my friends or your people. Please go."

"You are with my people now. I will not allow you to stay behind. I vowed to protect you."

"And I vowed to keep you alive. Please. My dishonesty hurt you and I am still trying to make up for it whether I wanted you to forgive me or not. Let me do something right for once. For them." Connor looked to the side and back to her as if permitting her to do as she wished, "The Passage Field will crumble in a second. You'll have to go back the way you came." He nodded and ran the opposite direction where the field crumbled and the frontier reappeared. Everything came into motion and the natives scattered to the woods.

"(Hey! This way!)" She called to them and they went up in the trees as she momentarily froze the regulars in time. The effect would not last long so they had to hurry out and the novice thought she was going to be sick. Using her abilities outside the Fields could cause head trauma, but she would do it if it meant that she was saving her allies. Her knees gave out under her and her eyes fluttered dizzily. So many voices called around and pictures flew past until Tsipporah felt the grass beneath her…

* * *

**So Johnson is dead, yeah? Well, not sure about our OC. She fainted using a premature Time Stop that took some mental use. Of course it's not a fully developed power-it's something she can do in the nexus but not in reality because she's a human. Anyway, now we're back in the spark of the Revolution, so now we get back into politics, war, and more conspiracies to unfold. This should be fun right? By the way, for those who don't know: the song lyrics is from "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri. Thought it was fitting for the wedding and for the OC's case with Connor. :3**

**Don't worry. Now that we're back in the war, more ConnorxOC or TsipCon... I dunno. Whatever floats your boat. Um... Let's my shipping list so far:**

**Emily x Fillan = Emillan**

**Kateri x Kanen'tó:kon = Kateren'tó:kon**

**and now some Myriam x Maurice = Myrice? :D**

**Gonna figure it out, but there is more romance to come. Next Chapter! ;D**


	15. Chapter 15: Revolution

_"I have not yet begun to fight."_  
― **John Paul Jones**

* * *

There was nothing but pandemonium at Homestead. It was the closest location that the elders could turn to once they saw what the novice was capable of and what became of her afterwards. Once the assassin in the white hood was safe and sound along with his friend and his cousin, the elders came minutes later with the novice limp in their arms. The old man, owner of the homestead property said that there was nothing to hassle about for she set herself into a suspension mode. The blonde observer took her accomplice into her hands and led her to her room where the young woman could rest. The natives were still a tad bit frantic as did the young man who had just stained his brow with the blood of a Templar. As things quieted down, the elders requested to know of the girl's condition should they return for she aided them, shielding them from musket fire.

"Please, gentlemen," Achilles sighed, "she will live. This is only temporary."

"Such power was granted by the spirits!" one elder pointed, "We shall return to know of her ailment." He nodded to the other old natives and they went to the direction of the woods, but not without looking to one of their own who has rid them of their enemy. "(We shall never forget what you have done for us, my brother. We are forever in your debt. The girl shall receive endless prayers and plays of _tewaarathon_ if she does not wake before the sun sets.)" Connor bowed his head, watching as the old men left the property. His face was calm, collected, and serene—inside was a build of uneasiness. Again, his observer made sure he had lived and now she places the responsibility of protecting his people on her shoulders as well. This personal matter didn't have to fall on her as well; she is just an observer, but she loved the natives as it seemed. She immersed herself into their customs, obeyed Clan Mother, and now she will shoulder the danger they fell to. Connor closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose as Kanen'tó:kon approached him.

"Thank you both, my friends," he patted his comrade's shoulder, "I know it was a dangerous task I asked of you both, I—"

"Do not be sorry, Kanen'tó:kon. We knew the risks. You are safe now. Return to the village and continue your days together." He looked to his cousin, "Do not worry, Kateri. She will be fine."

"You are sure…?" she sniffled, her eyes painted with pain.

"Have I ever lied to you?" she shook her head and tried to smile, turning back to her husband.

"I wish you all luck," Kateri and Kanen'tó:kon departed and left the old man and his apprentice to themselves. As soon as they were out of view, Connor turned on his heel and dashed off into the manor to his observer's room. The door was already open and he knocked on the doorway to alert the blonde. She barely made a move from the bed as he entered. Her hands kept wiping nonexistent stains on the novice's face.

"How is she?" Connor held a hint of guilt in his voice that Angie sensed shrugged her shoulders and kept stroking Tsipporah's hair. Her face looked as peaceful as it always did when she slept. She guessed she was dreaming of home or her family out on the beach collecting shells. It was one of the things she always did since childhood and kept up this activity ever since. Perhaps she was dreaming of her 'prince'. After reading so many stories, she always daydreamed about a whirlwind adventure. It was funny that all this fantasy turned her brain to mush and into a smartass that she was now. Only now, she seemed more responsible. Only now, she paid attention to people. Only now… she stopped being a coward. _Where was this coming from?_

"She's just sleeping, Connor," she smiled honestly, "She'll be fine. Happens to the Eyes all the time when they step out of the Passage Field too soon. It happened to me once—slept for an entire month and woke up eating all the food in my fridge. Watch, she'll eat a whole bear when she starts walking around." She brushed her hair from her face, "Observers are not to exploit information, but she did and nothing bad has happened. She used to be as obedient as a kid, so polite, and was a coward. Then after the age of ten with us… our world turned black, we started cursing, and she stopped believing in people completely. She'll make friends, but she wouldn't give a shit if they got in trouble, didn't give a shit if she had to wait for someone… until she went back to 1770. She came back with a calf scar the size of Canada and the attitude of a proud Samaritan. She said she doesn't trust people, but she trusts you."

"How long before she wakes up?" he pressed. Angie flashed two of her fingers.

"I'd give it two hours. She'll have one hell of a headache and disorientation, but she'll wake up." A sigh escaped his lips in relief. She was in no danger nor was she trapped within her own mind. He took the sleeping woman's hand in his and bowed his head, glad that she was still safe. Angie got up and exited the room without the assassin realizing, closing the door behind her. He opened his eyes and saw that a smile grew on the novice's face. The expression seemed so new as if he had not seen her smile before. Every time she turned up her lips, it was that of a trickster or a child, but this one was genuine and pure. What could she be dreaming of if she was dreaming at all? Most likely home for she never spoke of it openly here. Her mouth opened, whispering inaudible words and Connor leaned closely to hear. At first, he could not make out the words that she said and waited again:

"I… won't…urt… him. I… he's my best friend," her brow wrinkled, "Punish… me instead…" He turned his head to see her face and saw that tears fell from the corner of her eyes and began to sob. Her body tensed and she clenched the bed sheets, choking on her own breath. Connor acted fast, scooping Tsipporah into his arms until she sat up. Her head lay on his chest as he held her close. The novice's trembling gradually stopped and her breathing steadied itself, and more words were blurted out of her.

"_Feels warm_…" her breath brushed against Connor's face. He had to place her down after that now that that simple feat caused his nerves to rattle and felt all the blood rush to his face. He feared that his blood would rush to his nether regions should he hold her a bit longer. It took a moment to compose himself. He couldn't get himself to look away from her face. _Her face_. It was smooth and unblemished save for the scar at her right brow that she received as she protected Chapeau. He smiled at the memory, recalling how she didn't want to get in the way of a man seeking revenge. Never was she the type to be nosy, but helped in any way she could. It reminded him of his mother—stubborn, yet willing. He soon realized that he was tracing his hand along her face and felt at her lips. His nerves froze at the texture. They were soft, plump, and full—_desirable_. Such a softness stirred both a wanting and curiosity, remembering the Christmas party. What if he had kissed her lips then? _He should have if he had known to try earlier that time since they had such incredible suppleness…_

**"Whoa… what the… tree-hugger?!"** the novice's voice reached a maximum volume and snapped Connor from his trance, "What the hell are you doing…?"

"Nothing… I was just..." he backed away to the door and turned away so she didn't see his embarrassment. Curses, Angie said she wouldn't be awake in the next couple of hours, but here she was, fully alert. He felt truly shameful that he had touched her and thought of her in such an impure way. She was defenseless and at peace; what was he thinking? He wanted to apologize for such an impulsive act against her wishes.

"Forgive me; I was worried for your health…"

"You didn't try to fuck me did you? Was I imagining it? _Was I imagining it, Connor_?" she thinned her eyes and crossed her arms. She was so direct about it and the young man didn't even process that thought completely.

"No, I wasn't—I would never—"

"Pfft… haha! Really? I guess you're not the type, but hey if it's animal attraction, sure. Honestly, once upon a time, I would've done something like that, too. However, I don't roll like that. Did you try to kiss me, though? Tell the truth." she sat up straight and looked right at him. Connor clenched and unclenched his fists, knowing full well that he would not lie to her, but what would she say? _Would she think low of him_…?

"Well…" he looked to the ground and then the bedroom door was opened with Angie holding a tray of food in her hands.

"I brought something for my babe!" She announced and put the food down on the novice's lap, "Achilles and I put this snack-batch together for you. So did you guys talk about anything while I was gone?"

"He tried to fuck me!" Tsipporah joked, pointing an accusing finger at Connor who took this as an offense this time. It wasn't something he did on purpose. Such a thing happened in a trance—he had no control over himself. Angie cackled, pleased to hear this.

"Told you all men are the same!" she got up from the bed and swung her hips, "They can tell you that they think you're cute, but they just want some booty. And girl, you had a lot of it since kiddy-grade." And she sucked up all the awkwardness, spitting it back in their faces before she left. The novice brought her knees to her face, still looking to the assassin. He didn't look too happy anymore nor worried. His observer had some cruel jokes he could never take too seriously. She would threaten, lie, point fingers, and laugh. Her sense of humor never changed. There was something more he wanted to say, but wanted to leave her to eat.

"Wait, Connor. Stay with me." She begged.

"Why? I thought I was a perverse man trying to take you for myself."

"Nah, I was joking. You wouldn't do that on purpose. Besides, you're a bro and I like you; I could never hate you. You're not hate-worthy." His eyes softened and he tried to hide it. He fixed his gloves instead, approaching the girl again. "So far, Juno didn't like me using my powers. I almost forgot I had powers, but they can't work out here, otherwise I bend the time. If I went home, I can do some awesome stuff…" she gazed at her hands in wonder. Just for a moment, she slowed the flow of time and saved her comrades. The awe was more in the fact that she saved people doing something unimaginably inconceivable. Connor entwined his hand in hers, closing it in.

"Please, do not do something you are not fully capable of doing."

"Sorry about that… It just seemed like the only way to protect them at the time."

"Next time, no more using this wizardry," his eyes bore into hers deeply and the novice held her breath, "I will not allow your recklessness to continue."

"Apple?" she extended one to his face and he remained unmoved. _Wow, he was serious_. "You're not mad are you? I didn't think about doing that again, so—"

"All I ask is that you do not perform something so out of reach—something that not even I can undo. You are my responsibility and I am here to protect you; not to baby sit you." He went to the door, exiting and left the girl to feed herself. She nibbled at the bread in her hands and thought of what the assassin said. No, she told him to leave, so he knew she would do something dangerous. Her musing went back to when she opened her eyes to see that Connor was holding her face, passing his thumb over her lips as their breaths tangled. Goose-bumps formed on her skin when she pictured him actually letting the scene go on. If she had lighter skin, she'd be blushing with no restraint. However, it was too soon and too strange how he was doing it. She was just waking up and she found him like this. She had to say something! Never mind about that. It wasn't that important, right? It shouldn't, but her heart persistently hummed and shook. Before she knew it, the food on her plate disappeared in her frantic behavior.

"Damn it," she chewed unconsciously, "I can't just sit around contemplating on a stupid crush! I'm gonna eat this food and stop being such a school-girl!"

….

Later that day, Connor sat in the sitting room writing in his journal. He wrote of what happened today, but more importantly what he found on William Johnson's body as he died. His observer did not see, he supposed she didn't. He kept looking at the slip of paper sealed in a dry, red wax stamped with the seal of a cross—a cross all too familiar with him. It was a letter addressed to John Pitcairn, which contained orders to root out and destroy Patriot weapons and supplies. The colonists won't be able to maintain their resistance should Pitcairn succeed in his endeavors. He tapped the empty quill on the paper, deep in thought of how this would indeed spark a full-scale war against the common man. Taking down one of them had little effect. He had to kill all of them.

He placed the quill to the side with his journal on a side table and looked back to the lit hearth. The fire danced back and forth as his mind winded with ways he can go about this matter. He hardly rested at all and had much stamina not to. His ears propped up as he heard someone come down the stairs and enter the room.

"Hey, hero, what's that?" the novice peeked over his shoulder as he sat.

"It's nothing—"she snatched it and flipped it open. She skimmed down the page and Connor quickly retrieved it from her hands.

"So we gotta kill another one, eh?" she raised her brows.

"It looks that way."

"Why didn't you say anything to me? I saw you take something from Johnson's body and stuff it away so fast, so I knew it was something important. Are you trying to keep me out of this?" she came around until she was in front of him, putting her hands on her hips.

"He is ordering British troops to come for Boston and New York. It will take months to conjure such a massive force to take down the rebellion."

"That gives us time to come up with a plan. What do we do, boss?" she sat down on the floor, biting her nails. She was a little tense getting involved in an event that would spark the revolution by a full 80% if not by… 99.9%. Meh, now she's sounding like Juno.

"At the moment, I am unsure. I have spoken to Achilles of this matter and he suggests that I ask the aid of my recruits in New York. Not all of them, but enough to aid the colonists." As he explained his course of action, Tsipporah kept staring down at the journal in fascination. She has ever since she came back. The awe of him actually writing in cursive made her squeal inside. It reminded her of the many times he spilled ink in Achilles' office while her calf was healing. She scratched her leg and stood up.

"Fillan has a sister in New York, he says. Her name is Gillan and Angie knows her."

"Yes, she also has a way of… persuading regulars to divulge confidential information."

"In other words, she's a _ho_." Connor frowned. Does she really have to word it like that? "What? You're trying to euphemize your description about people. Can't you just say what you think about them for real?"

"I do," he said firmly, "I am not one to think low of people. Pitcairn, Johnson, Charles Lee, and my father may be my enemies, but they are still men—they are still human."

"So… you're like 'Above Good and Evil', too?" she commented on so many literary terms to label him with before. This sounded way better than a hero to her. He believed in good and evil; right and wrong; light and darkness; black and white, but knew that one could not exist without the other and that everything—everyone was balanced as equals. It made her respect him even more.

"I simply believe that people are people and desire freedom all the same. Some have more of just way of reaching their goal. Perhaps to the Templars, their way will benefit not only themselves but the world. However, this is not the way. It must be done in earnest—not by control."

"You believe that about people, then what do you believe about me?" Connor stared into the fireplace, furrowing his brows. The novice wanted to take back what she asked right then and there. Maybe she should go back to her room like a good girl and wait to be called on for dinner. Yeah, she should do that. She backed away slowly and gasped as her wrist was taken in a swift motion with the assassin looking directly at her.

"You are loyal to a fault and you think to high of some people as if you can see something they themselves cannot see. You call me a hero, but I am just doing what I believe is right."

"Well, when you're born in the kind of time I was born in, heroes come once every blue moon—"he stood from his chair, his eyes still locked on hers and she froze on the spot.

"Yet they appear, do they not?"

"Yes," she tried to remain calm, "they do come, but… in my time they get mixed up in something so stupid that we forget or don't know who's a hero, so…" The maid appeared, calling the two that dinner was set on the table and that Master Davenport was waiting for them. She bowed and moved out of the way for the two to get to the dining room. Connor took one last look at the novice before going to the dining room. The young woman nudged the maid to get her attention. She raised her head shyly.

"Oh, is there something I can help ye with, Young Miss?"

"This may seem a bit embarrassing, Gertrude, but do you know when Connor's birthday is?"

"The 30th of October, Young Miss," she gave a small smile that her young master would ask for such a thing. Tsipporah thanked her and moved on to dinner, but not without exchanging birthday dates between herself and servant. Achilles called for the girls to come here this instant and the two tried not to laugh at the old man's expense.

* * *

Months passed quickly and before anyone knew it, it was already 1775 where sparks of war would be set off in many ways. The Eyes had this documented in mind that there would be bloody battles under way and much data had to be collected. The recruits in New York had come down, hearing of the Brotherhood's predicament in taking down several troops that might be under way to destroy Patriot weapons. Aghanashimi even took part in her daughter's place, rooting and calling out other skilled warriors she knew of that were linked to the Creed. Among them was a young woman of the Shawnee named Alsoomse and Atasá:ta who is a warrior of the Kahnawake. Another letter was sent out to the French Queen the year before detailing the situation. In response, she unfortunately stated that she was unable to aid in her current position due to her peers closely watching her expenditures, placing her in a dire place. Should she spend more too rashly, their secrecy will be jeopardized. It mattered not, for they had all the supplies they needed. Keeping it safe was more of the issue.

Aghanashimi came to Homestead on one occasion in the afternoon, running into the girls with news of the colonists.

"The warriors are on standby. Where is my nephew? I must notify him on our status."

"He's speaking with his mentor right now inside the manor," Angie answered, "He'll come out soon."

"Did you bring enough warriors? We can't prod the natives too much in this fight." The novice wrinkled her face with worry. Sure the French Queen could not help them for sure, but she didn't want her friends to stick out like sore thumbs either.

"Not as much as an army, but enough to scare some British—"she stopped as she saw a man come in the direction of the manor. He was old and white clad in the colors of the colonists, wearing a satchel and bearing a letter. He gave the door a few knocks and Achilles answered the door. He handed the old man a letter. The girls had their attention at this, curious of where this might lead. When Connor came to the patio, Achilles turned to him with the message in hand, stating that Paul Revere is requesting for aid now that the British were up to something. Connor refused at first, but to the mention of John Pitcairn's name, he changed his mind to go see Paul Revere. The novice galloped alongside him, asking of him what she should do and his aunt came as well.

"What shall I do, dear nephew?" she pleaded, "There are warriors on standby, ready for your command."

"Your recruits from New York are here. My babe, Fillan, made sure of that," Angie added. He stopped to give quick instructions. They were to go meet him in Boston and keep track of him should anything happen; to stay updated of the current events should their plans be changed on a whim. Tsipporah mentioned that another assassin was here on duty—her name was Aveline from New Orleans. She will pass in and out of the cities and said that she will appear should they need an extra blade. Connors nodded and waved his hand for the women to disperse save for his observer to follow him. They decided to not take the carriage and horse this time around but the horse by itself for another member of the Creed to use after to darken their trail. At this rate, they would reach Paul's rendezvous point in the evening. It mattered not. However, time is of the essence and more could not be wasted. Once they reached the designated location, the horse was parked and the two let themselves in.

"Ah! Connor; Tsipporah, you came," Paul walked over from servicing a couple men some drinks, "Allow me to—" Connor shook off Paul's hand that touched his shoulder and the novice bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing. "…to introduce you to William Dawes and Robert Newman." More VIP's in ye olde America, she guessed. The young woman shrugged and reached out to shake their hand. She didn't want to leave them hanging, it would feel rude. Of course, Connor wasn't the type.

"Your letter said John Pitcairn was here."

"Aye. He's readying an assault on Lexington, where Adams and Hancock have taken shelter. After that he will march on Concord hoping to destroy our weapons and supplies. You must help us."

"Only tell me where to find him and I will put a stop to this." Damn right, he will. He was already a one man army. If the 1800s had an assassin like him, the Americans would be _screwed_.

"He has dozens, if not hundreds, of soldiers at his command."

"Yeah, so?" the novice blurted, earning a sharp pinch to her side from her boss, "…"

"You cannot hope to match him by yourself, but fear not for you not have to," Paul continued, "We have an entire army of our own merely awaiting the order to take up arms." Connor insisted that they should be called upon and Paul went straight to, telling Dawes and Newman to go forth to warn the citizens, making shelter in a church that was high enough to raise a lantern signal should the enemy come by land or sea. Once the orders were given, he turned to the two for them to aid him in the midnight ride. Tsipporah was jumping at her heels, excited about this like a history nut. Paul Revere's midnight ride to warn the people of the British's comeback was one of the stories she read in elementary class. Now she gets to be a part of it! _Yay_!

…..

On second thought, this ride was vital to history, but annoying as hell. Sure the thrill of riding a horse all night was no problem since the novice made a habit of staying up until four o'clock in the morning. Riding a horse was no problem, but it was the first problem. There was only one and three of them, so Paul and Connor were stuck riding with each other and the novice resorted to jumping the trees in pursuit. Secondly, stealth was a pain in the ass because Paul kept shouting whether or not they were on the right course. Man, he was so loud that it almost got them caught by scouting Loyalists. Every house they went to was a successful call until one house contained regulars. The novice had to protect Revere for he was unarmed, so she snatched a sword off of a regular's body and gave it to Paul. They continued on their quest until they reached one house where a young doctor resided. By then, the novice was feeling the fatigue and the men were still wide awake. Paul gave the door several knocks and became frustrated with the lack of response.

"Where the devil is he?" he frowned.

"Are you sure we are in the right place?" Connor grew impatient.

"Sure I'm sure—"

"I hear something out back," Tsipporah hushed the boys. She looked around the back and saw a figure running out past her. It was a woman of porcelain skin covering her exposed torso, having nothing on but her panties. "Never mind, just runaway tits as all. Hello?! Is any else back there naked—oh, hello. Are you the doctor that lives here?"

A young, white male came about to the front with a top and no pants on, leisurely walking out as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Prescott?" Paul gasped in disbelief.

"Evening gents… and madam," he reached out and kissed the novice's hand.

"Listen, the Regulars are out. You need to rally your men… and put on some trousers!" the novice really wanted to laugh, but came out in a different response.

"Seriously, man, put some pants on. I mean—_why is your dick hard_?" she turned around and covered her mouth from losing her cool; hilarious how he wanted to come in for a departing hug, too. Nope, that would be wrong. His thing would hit her bellybutton and that would be intercourse a little bit. He nodded to the three and went back inside. Tsipporah shook her head, recalling how the elementary story was nothing like this. Connor kept a straight face as the man waltzed back inside and looked back at novice while her she stood feeling a bit violated.

"Alright," Paul changed the subject, "We must go see Hancock and Adams. Young lady, I hope you are still well enough to follow."

"Yep. I'll just steal a horse. Go on ahead—I know where to meet." Connor looked at her with slight concern on his face. She could see even as he had the hood on the way he did. There was no need. She crept around in the dark plenty of times at home and learned shadow boxing. She was going to be fine. The men whooped the horse to go onward and the novice left to the trees to ambush some regulars should they come, but this proved difficult. They were in Lexington in less than ten minutes and there was no for a horse down the lane. After a few more trots, they all stopped in front of Hancock's house. It was a nice, wooden colonial build with a green door. Reminded the novice of the rental dorms in college and sort of made her homesick. Inside were indeed the men they were to meet.

"Paul, Connor, and Tsipporah—good to see you," Adams greeted, but there was no time for pleasantries. Connor pushed Paul and his observer aside.

"You need to leave. The redcoats are coming."

"Aye, so William's told us. Let them conduct their little search. They'll find nothing."

"You don't understand… Pitcairn intends to kill you."

"I'm afraid it's true," Paul supported and the novice did, too. She wasn't just twiddling her thumbs. A collection of logic came from Alice and Aghanashimi from the papers printed in Boston. They came up with this theory that perhaps the Sons would be made an example to scare the colonists. Then along came a letter from Johnson's blood-soaked body targeting weapons and supplies, and the Sons to top it all off. Sam took to the warning and asked of what Revere proposed. He planned for them to go on to Concord while Connor and Tsipporah stay here in Lexington and help John Parker, and his men hold the town. The best of her knowledge knew that this town had no soldiers; just minutemen. There wasn't much to defend with. This town could be lawn-mowed by British in a matter of minutes. Maybe it would be best for a couple of allies to come in. The men left the house and wished the others the best of luck, leaving the members of the Brotherhood with Adams and Hancock.

"You should rest for the morning," Connor told the young woman.

"I think Angie would be on her way," she yawned, "You should save your energy, too."

"I have an extra blanket to spare, if you'd like," Sam offered and the novice gladly took it, wrapping herself with it and pulled up a chair by the fire. She leaned her head to the side knowing of what's to come. Tomorrow's going to be one big mess. Her brows pinched in worry for this town and a hand passed in her hair. She recognized those hands as dark as hers.

"…Surry?" she turned her head and saw a colored woman smiling down on her, "Oh _my God, Surry_!" Her arms quickly held the middle-aged woman in bliss and the affection was returned.

"You chi'ren been holdin' up on me. Haven't seen you since yo' leg was split wide open, but yo' still on yo' own two feet. I's glad to see that. And Connor! So busy that yo' can't even muster a 'hello'. Hmph, still fresh as always. Not even go'n to say nothin' either."

"I apologize. There have been many unfortunate events and we all must act."

"I unde'stand, young man. Adams tol' me of whatcha been up to. Throw down the tea that bad man Johnson's been smugglin' and next thang—never hear from 'im again. Now Pitcairn is threatenin' my friends, too." She took more wood and tossed it into the fire, "Miss Martel?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Let me take yo' aside. We go'n in the kitchen to take out some food for the boys."

"Yes, ma'am."

She followed the woman to the kitchen to where there were wrapped baskets of saved food on the counter. So many baskets were out covering most of the edges as well. These were probably saved for soldiers here to restore energy. The kitchen wasn't very big either. There was a stove and surrounding cabinets, but the novice kept finding herself almost running into one at every turn. She stopped her struggle with the spacing when Surry called her name.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Heh-heh, you's a bit of a clumsy one, but yo' heart's still true. First time I saw you, yo' leg was cut wide open and lil' Connor tol' me what happened. He never forgot that deed o' yours. Almost cried over yo' body, thinkin' you's go'n to die. Poor thing. Now here y'all are wantin' to defend this here town. I unde'stand why he here, but why _you_?"

"Because no one here needs to _die_ for freedom; not everyone. The British threatens not only the colonists, but the Iroquois as well. Surry, I can't just stand by knowing what's going to happen. This is my home, too." More or less, this is the beginning of what soon became of a proud country. As long as she's here, she would have to fight. It felt weird to at first because the future she came from of America was one where a war was on a different soil and people ignored what was going on most of the time. Sure the American people knew what was going on, but… who knew how many people are in Congress? How many senators are there? Who knows the significance of Rode vs. Wade? _Exactly_.

"I see. Sure you not doin' all this for someone?"

"What?"

"Someone like ol' Connor back there?" Please don't say it. _Please don't say it_. "I been seein' the way you been lookin' at him with those big, brown eyes o' yours. Like you undressin' 'im in yo' mind."

"No…" she stiffened with a poker-face, "Nothing like that."

"A'ight. You don't have to tell me none. Don't have to explain neither, but you know that boy is fine like a glass o' wine. The older he got as did for him gettin' finer. Girl, if you don't want 'im I'll take 'im."

"Oh my God…" she threw her head back in laughter, "You're worse than my friend—_BAHAHAHA_! Surry…haha…" Surry kept on going to give this girl a laugh, holding a basket and handing her another.

"I's tellin' you, girl. Sit on that boy 'til his knees e'plode. _Mm_!" they both uncontrollably laughed and the men had to intervene as if they were under attack. The novice assured them that nothing was wrong and were just trying to have a good time. Surry handed Adam some bread and told him to stay warm by the fire. The laughs didn't amuse the assassin not one bit. The colored woman couldn't see his face, but knew he wanted to know what got the novice so hyped. She put her index finger and thumb together in a motion against her lips, zipping it shut and walking out of the kitchen.

"Hungry?" the novice held a bread in her hand, trying to play off the hilarity.

"I suppose I should eat something before first light. Should I ask what the noise was about?"

"Don't worry about it. You don't wanna know. Seriously, you'll never want to be around Surry ever if I told you." She took a piece of bread and walked pass to meet with the others, but was pulled by her arm. "Yeah, fine-as-wine?" _Ah, shit_.

"What did you call me?"

"Nothing. Yeah?"

"I appreciated you telling me 'happy birthday' months ago. I am sorry I did not thank you before. There was much on my mind."

"I know there wasn't a moment to spare for leisure. I just wanted to at least tell you."

"Yes and for that I am grateful. However, now you must sleep. I will wake you when it is time to leave." Tsipporah wanted to say that he should get some rest, too, but that would take some rest. He was stubborn after all, so she obliged to his offer and went back to the fireplace to rest with the others. She shook her hair and touched the feathers that were clipped in. In her chair, she closed her eyes and allowed the darkness to take over. Connor came by and watched as she slept with Adams and Hancock. The way they all slept in a clump looked like siblings sharing a space. He wanted badly to reach out and touch her hair like he used to when they were young—when she gave him permission to. _Her voluptuous figure… her supple body… her smooth skin… her child-like eyes… her plump lips…_

He managed to resist this time. There was no time to dawdle and ponder on these things. He would rest for a few hours in count, and then go out on, marching. His hand passed through the girl's hair gently, lest she'd wake from the touch. She promised not to use her power this time and she won't. After all, she hated it when people worried for her. Connor wanted nothing more but to keep his people and village safe. Looking at this young woman and all the endeavors they shared, he… he wanted to protect her from harm as well. Something about her made his heart ache. Was he getting sick? Nope. Couldn't be. He never got sick from anything and didn't have time to. There was a battle to be had and he was to prepare.

* * *

The morning mist covered the grounds of Lexington in stillness as if beasts were hiding within it. The town was eerily quiet like the calm before the storm. Surry woke the group in Hancock's house with a start, warning them to go out for the minutemen were being called upon and they should leave before Pitcairn arrives. They stumbled in their seats before they got a hold of themselves to get their things and move on. Adams, Hancock, and Surry would have to leave this place with an escort. Fortunately, an urgent knock banged the door and the novice went to answer.

"Who's there?" she yelled with her hand on her sheathed blade.

"Aphrodite, dipshit." _Sounds legit_. She swung open the door and there was the fabulous blonde in all her glory, waving like an idiot. Good timing, too. Connor told her of the situation and gladly offered to defend the Sons to reach Concord. She had them rush to their horses outside and promised to come back when they were safe. The novice bit her lip and launched herself at the blonde, hugging her like never before. It just occurred to her that she wouldn't see until the late afternoon or never. This was wartime and they were going to see, spill, and shed blood. Angie smiled ruefully, hugging her comrade back.

"You be safe, girl," the novice sniffed.

"You, too, babe. Don't worry. I'm too fabulous to die." They slowly released each other and shared a heart-wrenching gaze before the blonde departed. Surry gave her blessings to the assassin, wishing them safety and security. "May God be with y'all," she said as they left away by horse.

"Thank you for your aid. I am in your debt," Hancock went out the door.

"Connor, Tsipporah; stay safe. Pitcairn is a dangerous man. You be careful." Sam nodded as he left and the two nodded. All that was left now was to meet up with John Parker in the next half-hour. Her palms were sweaty. There were only few exercises back home where she had to fight off one-hundred mobile mannequins at once to reach the end goal and hoped that she would never be in a situation similar to it. It was inevitable. Once the horses were out of sight, he signaled for them to go out and move forward. The path to the entrance of Lexington was full of dirt and mist. The sky was grey and gloomy. It's was an Elizabethan play that sensed the tragedy that was to happen.

Down the road were minutemen in two rows—farmers and workers, the lot of them. They weren't soldiers. They knew how to manage the sword and rifle, but had no formal training or discipline. It could be seen in their eyes. They were determined to defend their town, but for how long? At the first shot, they would scatter like cockroaches. The novice froze on the spot as she witnessed _the_ John Parker giving orders and words of encouragement to the men. It was like a dream. She's read about these great men in books or watched them in docudramas; here they were, right before her eyes. The proud man of war didn't look too good, though. Documentation says that he suffered tuberculosis during the revolution and didn't last too long in this century. The two approached Parker, but heard boasting from the British in the distance. This is it. _This is the Battle of Lexington and Concord._

"Stand your ground men!" Parker began, coughing in mid-sentence, "Don't fire unless fired upon! But if they mean to have a war, let it begin here!" Those famous words she heard about finally rang in her ears in real time. The war would start here and knew it.

"Hey, boss," she pointed to the regulars in front of them with a single, yet perilous man leading them. Connor straightaway recognized him.

"Pitcairn!" he spat, "I must reach him."

"Not like this you can. Looks like almost a hundred men with him." Tsipporah saw no way around this. There weren't that many men to defend Lexington. This was a fail waiting to happen unless… No. She can't. She promised not to use her powers and she couldn't anyway. It would render her into a coma she couldn't get out of. Should the colonists lose now, everything they fought for would be dead with them. The Templars can't have their way. Not now.

"Disperse, you damned rebels!" Pitcairn commanded, "Lay down your arms and disperse!" The bayonets from his side fired instantly, taking the lives of several farmers and the rest of them fled as predicted. The novice rolled her eyes, seeing that one coming and was pushed behind a rock for coverage by the assassin.

"Stay there. Do not move," he ordered and went to Parker's side that was furious with his own militia.

"What the deuce are you doing?! Hold your positions! Cravens! Traitors!" Connor managed to pull him out of range and into a safe spot for coverage. He told Parker that there was no other way but to make do with those who remained. They were about to debate on it, though the British were recharging, giving the colonists the upper hand for a small minute as they returned fire. It looked hopeless here. They were outnumbered, men fled, and they had not much to go out on. John coughed, stating that Connor should look for a man by the name of James Barrett and to give him a written letter. He had to get to him quickly. Lexington was now a level-red warzone.

"What do we do now?" Tsipporah shouted over the spark of gunfire.

"We must reach a man—James Barrett. We must get to Concord."

"No shit, the British are already behind us!" the novice yelled and the assassin took her by the hand and sprinted forward towards the next town. However, it was essential that they reach Concord, but around them were townspeople wrapped up in a state of panic. Women and children ran amuck, scared of what the redcoats will do once they trample the town. Just as he was in a dilemma—

"(What are doing just standing around, Ratonhnhaké:ton?)" a familiar voice demanded. He knew full well who it was.

"Aghanashimi," he blandly said, "You are late."

"I am here for relief. As if you could take on that beast of a man yourself and save this stone-village. I brought my friends to evacuate the town to Concord. Best you get there, too, since you have a message to pass on."

"How did you—"

"Go. _Now_."

There was no need to remind them. The townspeople shouted that the British were taking hostages and Connor left the task of saving those of Lexington in her care. It was odd to leave anything up to her, but there were other things to be apprehensive about. The assassin and his observer went ahead, down the dusty trail and over the bridge reaching to Concord. A militia was in line also, placed in three sections: the bridge and either sides of it. As the mist cleared, they saw that Angie and Dawes were speaking to a man in a scarlet coat. Notably, it must have been Barrett. Connor picked up the pace and ordered his novice to take up arms. She obeyed, seeing no other way to defend against firearms then with more firearms.

"Blood's been spilled in Lexington, and there's more to come," Connor warned Barrett, out of breath, "The Regulars are on the March."

"You don't say?" Barrett flashed some dry sarcasm, "Why do you think I've men up here? Go home, 'fore you get yourself killed. I've enough to worry about without some green-boy looking to play hero." Of all the things to laugh about, Angie didn't find it so and gave a sour face. Both her and Dawes would disagree, said they would vouch for him. The assassin bared a letter from Parker, handing it to the bothered patriot to skim. The young man took this time to ask of the fate of Paul Revere and his men, but received news that took him aback.

"He's been captured," Dawes flatly replied, "Fear not. That man's no stranger to sticky situations. He'll be fine, I'm sure of it." Barrett finished reading letter and turned to Connor, now aware that he was a man that the Sons had great need of; him and his accomplice. He gave his orders and played out the battle plan. If the redcoats get past the bridge and push on, it would be the end of Concord. The novice raised her hand to focus her eyes forward, past the bridge and saw that some people were coming this way with a native woman leading them. Once the townspeople of Lexington got over the bridge, another issue arose. Pitcairn was on their heels; at their entrance, not too far. The colonists ran back and forth with their guns in hand, shaky on foot.

"This is a mess, babe," Angie rubbed her neck.

"We have to take firing positions," the novice said, "I got dibs on the bridge. Pitcairn is right there, giving orders. Connor's giving the order to shoot. You better take a position over there with the others."

"You're so serious, babe. What's gotten into you? …or Who's gonna get into you?"

"Just take up arms and man the barricades, bitch!" Tsipporah shooed her friend away and she left to aid the other men, but not without sniggering at the reaction. The British were too close for comfort and Connor went back and forth by horse giving permission to fire. The smell of gunpowder stained the air from both sides. A river of blood began to form on the Templar's side as the soldiers were put down to rest. The native woman even took a firearm and joined to take down the opposing team. It was long, too long before the head of the beast turned his tail. The colonists cheered on their weary feet, but they have won today. This was yet to be a victory for the Brotherhood for Pitcairn was still breathing—every breath stinging the ego of the First Civilization. Once everything calmed down, Connor spoke to Barrett and the girls came together.

"Connor doesn't look too happy," Angie pointed out. The novice leaned her head to see her assassin's face full of disappointment and dissatisfaction. Why? They won didn't they? Concord was safe. Sure, Paul had gotten himself captured, but he'll be fine. What was the problem? The novice went to his side as soon as Barrett left and gripped his shoulder.

"Connor, we won today. You look like we had just lost the whole war."

"People still died today and Pitcairn is still alive. I should have struck when I had the chance. Many more will suffer should I wait for him to show himself." He looked furious and agitated. He had made the same mistake with Johnson and waited until he had enough money to terrorize his people again. He could not let any of the wretched Templars live.

"Come on. Concord is safe and people who survived Lexington are, too. We should go home today, rest up, and go hunting to cool off—"

"I do not have the time to '_cool off_'. Was today some kind of gag to you?"

"Nope." Was he really trying to argue? _With a black woman_? He's going to lose.

"Do not tell me of these things again. The last time I have chosen to take no part, Johnson almost had his way."

"But he didn't. You killed him and everyone was saved, but as long as all of them lived no one is safe. This isn't just your people. It's these people. Besides, you lead those farm-boys well today. I'm proud to call you my boss-man. And fuck what Barrett had to say about you—you're a hero to me. You got more balls than every guy Angie slept with." Terrible comparison. **Terrible comparison**. _Terrible comparison_. Connor wasn't too sure if she was trying to compliment him or be funny still, but that last comment almost made him laugh if not on the outside. A small smile formed on his lips and wrapped one arm around the novice, causing her to squeak. She breathed out, waving to the girls to follow. Now they would go see Adams and Hancock somewhere in town to check on them, and then off to Homestead for the day.

* * *

The members of the Brotherhood gave themselves a moment of rest, but Connor did not. He was anxious to take down Pitcairn and lessen the threat of the patriots losing weapons and supplies. In the basement, he would train until he was sore until news of the Red Devil himself was announced. Not once did he come up for air and either Achilles or Tsipporah had to fish him out in argument. Hell, even his cousin who was now with child fussed at him for being so stubborn. He told her to leave since she was in a delicate state, but she refused. If he was going to be difficult, then so would she.

"Take a breath of fresh air for once," Kateri held her swollen belly.

"If you return home, I will."

"That's my cousin."

Tsipporah and Angie brofisted each other as well as Kateri, and she left with her husband carrying her rest of the way. The young man shrugged and sat down on the grassy steps of the manor, combing his fingers through his silky hair in irritation.

"Connor," the novice weakly rubbed his back, "Come on, bro, and don't be like that. You'll get Pitcairn and the others. The revolution is long and they have months to plan something, and so do we. The Second Continental Congress is gonna be in Philadelphia next week. Adams is gonna be there and he'll most likely help you get to Pitcairn then, hm?" He raised his head and looked to her face, brushing off her hand from his back as if it was bothering him more. "Gah!" she backed away from him, "What the hell, man? You think you're the only one frustrated? I got _two_ worlds chewing my ass right now because Templars are hiding! Why don't you stop being a little whiny bitch about your pro—"

He stood up completely and got up to her face menacingly. The whole thing caught her off guard and Angie sat down, eating a bag of baked potatoes to enjoy the show. It was like watching an old bickering couple. The blonde was happy that the novice wasn't into romantics at this point; otherwise this wouldn't be fun to watch.

"Big words for someone who tremble at the first sign of danger."

"Yeah, well at least I know when to dive in before the danger comes and choose my battles I know I am capable of fighting. You on the other hand haven't changed—_damn hot-head_."

"You speak as if you have accomplished many things when the only thing you have ever done in your time is scribble down nonsense in your notebook and call it art; ignoring those in need in front of you, and keeping to yourself."

"Ha! What I say? You're a whiny bitch who think you should get a fucking medal for all your accomplishments. I may not a killed a man before I met you, but at least my talent got me to hundreds of places and I've done a lot of work. It took a week for me to wipe out the enemies—half of them where I'm from. This is taking you months and we've barely gotten number two down. Fact is: I can't do anything unless you do something and because of you, I'm a sitting duck!" His eyes narrowed in annoyance. Not even a crossness of when she made a snarky joke. She hasn't seen those eyes since they first met—_cold and uncaring_.

"Well, is that not how you get your way, is it? Placing the blame and responsibility on others when you yourself will not and I will not stand for it. If you believe to be a sitting duck then do something essential to our cause instead of complaining."

"I am not com—"

"Then what else have done that benefits us so besides taking up arms? Have you the years of training I had? All of the tools? The knowledge?"

"You do realize I'm from the future right? I know all of the things to happen the next hundred years. I'm not gonna argue on this. I only came to cheer you up and you managed to get us both mad. You'll get to Pitcairn one way or another. That'll be two down."

"That is your desire is it not? To be rid of them only to return home; as if you have given a shred of your life to care for the colonists as you do for my peo—" **_SLAP!_** She back-handed the assassins to dare spit at her resolve and step on her like a mad dog. Sure, she wanted to go home, but with a sense of accomplishment. She honestly wanted to help despite her fears of dying. She was sent to this time and was going to finish the job alongside whom she believed to be the "True Hero of the American Revolution". It all seemed pretty stupid now. Her eyes sharpened, hurt by his words with a pang of sadness.

"You got some _fucking_ nerve to think don't give a shit about your people and the colonists still—_and even you_. If I wanted to go home, I would have just found another way." She thinned her eyes, her vision getting blurry, "You think I give a shit about how long I have to wait to go back? You think I nearly put myself in a coma to help you out and promised not to do something so risky again on _Lexington and Concord _because it was just an order?" she turned her heel and stomped back into the manor, not wanting to look at his face. If he was trying to upset her as much as he was, then he succeeded. The novice bumped into Achilles and took a second to look at him and move on to her room, slamming the door. The old man stood downstairs, hearing the muffled sobs of the observer. They sound anguished, which was no surprise at all. He heard them argue out front—his apprentice and her. He sighed and let himself up the stairs. The maid wanted to come along and assist him, but said that there was no need.

…..

"You don't think I'm still selfish after all that's happened do you, Achilles?" the novice rolled around in her bed, still angry at the assassin. She told the old man what happened earlier and he did his best not to salt her wounds. Her eyes were red from stress than sorrow and tears. He sat on the bed beside her, looking at her drained face.

"Well, child, of course you're selfish—you're young. It's only natural to think of the world revolving around just you, but you have changed in such a short course of time being here. I wonder what could've inspired to progress in character?" he said with a strong feel of sarcasm, "The worst that could happen is straying from your task, but now you must mend the wounds you've made with Connor. Ever since you first came here, you two have been at war with each other if not the redcoats. Your friendship is based on your differences—you are passive and full of sass; Connor is of humble heart and honesty. Opposites attract and I suppose that is why someone like you was chosen to watch him. According to my student, you already saw the best in him before he realized it himself."

"What?" she sniffled, adjusting herself on the bed, "No. I do it all the time back at home. I saw talent when I talent—that's that. Angie—people just saw her as a whore, but I saw a classical dancer in school and I told her to sign up for arts school with me…" and she became the top dancer of her class. It was no different. Whatever depressing factor someone took of someone else, she saw a light in them. Is that why she was here? Is that why she is Artemis of the First Civilization? She lost the words to speak more in her defense, but if she spoke more, she would only prove the old man right. Her tears instantly dried at that point and took Achilles into her arms with her head on his shoulder.

"Enough, girl, you get affectionate with the wrong crowd, I swear."

"Come on," she clung to him pigheadedly, "Just hug back for once. I just… I usually have talks like this with my dad at home…" she was afraid her tears would spill again. God, staying here much longer turned her into a big crybaby. She never cried this much back home. News were same and dire, school was constantly in her agenda, church was a drag, drama with students were stupid, her facebook friends' list was full, and her sketchbook held her dreams. No tears were ever that much of a feature until now. The elder gave a half-smile and wrapped a hand mechanically around her shoulder and back. It has been a long time since he held a young person in his arms—he wasn't the type to. Perhaps it was because he and Connor were never the type to show that type of affection. Both he and novice knew; his name may as well be Connor "Don't Fucking Touch Me" Kenway like his father.

"The Second Continental Congress is next week," she mumbled.

"Then you'd best prepare. Pitcairn is sure to spring up soon. When the time comes, Connor must strike, but first you need to apologize to him."

"What?" she fumed. Apologize? She didn't start anything!

"Knowing you, you must have spoken to him in the wrong approach. Apologize at once."

"I hate you, Achilles. I thought you were siding with me!"

"Why? Because we're both colored? _Please._"

"Not even! You heard what happened—never mind. I'll try to talk to him again."

"That's what I like to hear."

* * *

**Didn't think I could write so fast, huh? Thanks to listening some inspirational music, it happened SO fast. Thank you Michael Bolton and Phil Collins! I advise writers to listen to them when writing. Got me typing like a manic. ****;D **

**They're fighting again! Well, spoils of war; can't have them be so lovey-dovey when there's other problems, but at least we know the fighting's bringing them closer. Next is a trip to Philadelphia and Pitcairn finally goes down among other things... Anyway, there's a lot of planning that'll have to go into the next chapter and it might take a week or so. I don't plan on delaying at all (not that kind of person), but I wanna make sure that I'm still historically correct. Sure I'm getting my sources from the game and input romance, but I can't just type anything am I right? **

**Cheers to Kateri for being pregnant! Whoo! And love to all the readers. I had to input Kateri's pregnancy because it's sort of a shout-out to my sister in Haiti (I'm gonna be an auntie)! She reads my writing, so yeah. **

**Thank you all for following the story. The end is near! JK As if. I'm partying on December 21st, 2012. Who's with me to Passions Night Club? :D**


	16. Chapter 16: Continental

_"The hour is fast approaching, on which the Honor and Success of this army and the safety of our bleeding Country depend. Remember officers and Soldiers, that you are free men, fighting for the blessings of Liberty - that slavery will be your portion, and that of your posterity, if you do not acquit yourselves like men."_

**–George Washington**

* * *

When the group reached Philadelphia, the two novices stayed in the lobby while the men went inside the meeting room. They heard that George Washington would be there along with several special announcements. If the novice remembered correctly, this was the Congress in which Washington has been commended to be Commander in Chief. The girls tried to keep to themselves, but this felt no different than a field trip now that they were in the Independence Hall. They both were fangirling over the fact that they were in a famous, historical site where the Declaration of Independence was written and the U.S. Constitution was written. However, those events will not take place yet until the later years from where they were now. As a play for boredom, the novices matched each other to see who memorized the Preamble.

"Ok… er…_We the people of the United States, in order to form a perfect_…" the novice didn't like this game, "_Union_! …_and establish justice_?"

"You got it. And…?"

"Ensure?"

"Insure."

"_Domestic tranquility_!"

"There you go."

It almost seemed like an eternity and the meeting dragged on longer than church, or so Tsipporah thought. After another half-hour, the meeting was adjourned and the members who attended circled around the lobby or left the Hall. Once Connor and Samuel Adams came out, the girls rushed to them like the orphans on the street. They were eager to know what was up until they saw Charles Lee leave into the lobby as well alongside Washington.

"Whoa… Why is _he_ here?" Tsipporah pointed.

"Passed over in command. Pay him no mind; there are more pressing matters." Sam raised and Connor wanted to know what would happen now. "There's quite a lot to do. Commander Washington must determine when and where we'll next. And we need to get to work on our message."

"Message?" Connor asked.

"We must contact the broadsheets at once—ensure it's clear to everyone that it was the Loyalists that fired first on Lexington."

"But no one knows who fired first…"

"Which is exactly why we must spread the news quickly. We'll determine public opinion."

"This seems dishonest."

"Perhaps, but so what? People must believe we acted in self-defense, else we've committed treason."

"But you have."

"Better to bow and scrape before a tyrant then? Is that what you suggest?"

"No, of course not. No one should be denied freedom. And yet… to change the truth… It seems a dangerous road to travel."

"Understand, Connor, this is a war fought not just on the battlefield, but within hearts and minds as well. There's nothing wrong with a bit of theater—especially if it saves lives." His words held some merit. This can't be the first time the news-printing had to forge some papers or propaganda to win public opinion. Things like this always happened in wartime. Still happened in the wartime she was in back at home, except not that much of the public showed a shred of concern since 2001. All of a sudden they wanted to end it. She sucked her teeth, thinking of how she didn't want to live on this planet anymore because of it.

"Tsipporah? Is something on your mind?" Samuel looked to the young woman looking as grim as ever.

"Just home. People there only care about gossiping and celebrities. Tragedy hits and they get serious, but after some years, they forget all about it; makes me not want to live on this planet anymore. You guys are a good bunch. This country should be proud to have men like you." She looked at Connor, "Even if _some_ are a bit naïve…" His eyes appeared to sneer at her, but she went on. "Don't give me that look. You are. Kill men to declare peace and shit. Ok, do you since all I care about is going home when all of this is over."

"Enough of your childishness, Tsipporah. This isn't about you," Connor stood his ground, "In fact; you are just here for observation."

"I'll take your tomahawk and neuter you, fucking tree-hugger." Angie and Samuel had to come in between them. The last thing they needed was for the both of them to come to blows. Angie decided to change the subject and ask if there were news of Pitcairn. Apparently, there is. They were to find Israel Putnam at Bunker Hill where he set up an encampment. He's in charge of the colonial forces and as long as they showed him the slip, he'll give whatever help Connor needed. If memory serves right, there was to be cannon fire to be had. The novice thought this would be not much of a problem since she's worked with cannons before when she was aboard the Aquila to defend the Vineyard, find Captain Kidd's treasure, and take over British forts. This won't be a problem.

….

Forget it. This became a problem so fast that novice clung to her assassin the entire trip to Israel Putnam. First of all, they weren't on Bunker Hill; they were on Breed's. There was so much cannon fire in use that the very grounds might as well have an earthquake or a landslide for good measure. Angie went up to New York to find Fillan about some funny business and wouldn't tell about it. It didn't really matter much at this point, now that the encampment was being blown to bits and a nearby town—Charlestown—was suffering from the shelling it received. The novice had to brave this one, but the only way the shelling would stop is if they destroyed the ships that were firing. Upon meeting Putnam, he seemed to not take the two seriously on their stratagem.

"I shall fly this flag to signal my success," Connor took a worn out Thirteen Colonies Flag from the ground. Putnam grunted in sarcasm.

"And I shall speak fondly of you at your funeral." He brushed the shoulder of Tsipporah and left to go back to have the men ready. Well, that was rude, but his passive behavior sort of gave them the drive to prove him wrong. He was an old guy with years of experience and they were just kids. Now that she thought about it, they were both twenty-one at this point. Maybe she could get something on the rocks when all of this was over. One drink would do.

"We need to pass through Charlestown to reach the ships," Connor spoke to the observer, "Eliminate the Regulars that stand watch or more that will come. Can you do that?" The novice nodded with her eyes unmoved. "I shall destroy the ships and you wait for me at the dock. Stay close, understand?"

"I understand!" she fussed, feeling like he was repeating something to a baby, "Let's go before we get shelled!" He took her hand and sprinted across town with brick walls and cannon balls flying in every direction. Fires broke out in every home they passed, flailing hazardous fire-flakes in the air. It was chaos—hell on earth, at least. There were corpses on display for the world to see. One corpse was a woman holding a scorched up child in her hand and she, too, was trapped under rubble only to be completely annihilated the next loose shred of instant death. It was like being inside a war movie that didn't end or didn't want to end. The two managed to exit the town and avoid damage, but not for long. Out of the blue was the shockwave of a stray cannonball, throwing the two forcibly to the docks on their backs. They recovered after a moment as they found themselves pressed against solid wood and sea air.

"Tsipporah…" Connor got up and shook his partner who was face down, "Wake up. We still have… we still have a job to do." She didn't move for a while that he gripped her shoulder, so he picked her up in his arms to see her face. There were scratches on her neck that bled as well as a broken lip. Her brows were knitted together in anxiety, but her eyes remained closed. What was worse was that her pulse seemed to fade and her face paled in short breaths. Was their time together over? _No, it cannot be_…! She said she was going home when the war was finished. She said she would go back to her family and mend ties. She wanted to see Kateri's babies before she left. He didn't even tell her the truth. _He didn't even tell her that he… he actually_… "Tsipporah, you cannot pass on now. There is something we must do. (Do not abandon this… do not abandon me… not now… _please_.)"

Her eyes shot open like magic and inhaled sharply, and looked to the assassin. She shook her head and stood up on her own, pulling Connor to his feet. "I hate cannons. Just hurry up and destroy those stupid ships, "she gasped, "I'll get the redcoats here on the docks."

"Did I not say that you do not give me orders?" Connor said walking away to dive, "I will not tolerate you dying next time." Of course he wasn't, but then again he got all mushy on her when she fainted. Her eyes felt heavy and she heard his voice. It was only unconsciousness she was in and was pretty limp after getting knocked to the ground; there was no danger to her life. Recovery from damage never was one of her good habits—failed to learn, actually. After hearing a splash in the water, the novice went to work to dispatch off some redcoats that heard it, too. She taunted and toyed with them as she saw Connor finally boarding on one of the enemy ships. Unfortunately, her "toying around" to kill them attracted even more of them. This was good. At least it distracted them from the ships being destroyed and their flags being replaced. As expected, it only took about fifteen minutes—man, that boy can swim fast. After the last group of opposition, the novice timed out and helped the assassin up from the water.

"That's what I'm talking about," she cheered along with fellow colonists behind her, "That's my man! _Yeah_! Let's go back to Putnam and wipe your ass in his face! _Whoo_!" he was glad to see that she was still filled with some energy left. He would never admit it to her, but he was scared that she may have died—especially when he swore to protect her. It had almost killed a part of him just as when his mother died as his village burned. Ziio told him that he would never be alone and that she was always with him. On some level, he believed that part to be this young woman who came from nowhere. She was different, strange, and maybe a little crazy, but looking at her now; she was someone of an honorable mention. She wanted to protect those precious to her as he did and opened her eyes to the reality of this external conflict between great nations. It felt like only yesterday that they were trying to run off back to the native village and play more brought a horse to her boss to ride back faster and follow the colonists back to Putnam.

"Your horse, my liege," she joked, getting in front, "Dibs on front seat!"

"This is not the time for levity," he commented.

"Levity? Who said anything about levity? We're going back to the encampment."

"Hmph."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Always trying to pick a fight with me and think you can touch me in my sleep. You lucky my mama isn't here to hear about that. She'd hand your ass to you." Half the truth, anyway. Her parents have been dying to have her bring a man home. So far, no such luck. Her head was too buried into the arts and school. They didn't know what else she was up to going to Angie's place frequently. They were more afraid of her getting involved with a whore—they didn't care if she brought a girl home instead. _Anyone would do._

Connor jumped onto the horse, wrapping his arms around his partner to reach the reins. Maybe it would've been better to walk. His muscular arms were clothed, but still aroused the young novice that her nose almost bled and his body leaned into hers; both molding perfectly with each other. She was too stiff to turn and check on him for she felt his warm breath on the nape of her neck, sending a chill down her spine. Goosebumps grew down her arm and she was thankful that she was wearing a blue coat with long sleeves to hide it. It was better to hide her body than her face. She kept forward, biting her lip in torment that her animalistic passion would take hold of her. No, maybe the shellshock was getting to her _bad_. This was harder to brave out than… wait, was that his nether regions poking her back or his tomahawk she was feeling? That better damn near be his rope dart… He whooped for the horse to go on ahead, passing the fatal ruin of Charlestown. Connor leaned in closer as he made dynamic turns to avoid the rubble, but the novice could feel his heart against her back now. It was beating rapidly—beyond normal speed. _Was he truly scared of the firings and the people or… or was he as nervous to be this much in contact with her as she was?_

* * *

There was Putnam in range. They could deliver the news now, but the novice stopped the assassin from doing so, lest they disturb the speech he was giving—the speech that soon became the most famous words in all of the American Revolution:

_"The enemy advances and you tremble._

_They've better numbers, you say. Better weapons. Better training._

_But I do not fear, and neither should you._

_For what they have in material, they lack in conviction and care._

_But not us. We have discipline. We have order. And most importantly, we have passion._

_We believe! So maintain vigilance._

_Conserve your ammo._

_Ensure a proper line of sight._

_And above all else, men: do not fire until you see the whites of their eyes!"_

The two got off their ride to report back to the general. He was surprised to see them still alive if one could call it "being surprised". There were other things to worry about though. The general pointed out that the Red Devil himself finally showed up. Pitcairn was now on Moulton Hill leading an army of thousand shooting holes to the bosom of America. Connor took a small telescope to clearly see where his target was. Their enemy's encampment was too much of a maelstrom to get by and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon. Tsipporah thought Johnson to be a cakewalk than this shit.

"There is no time," Connor said, calmly, "I will have to chance a direct approach. Tsipporah, follow behind me." _She could say no, but…_

"Alright," she shrugged, shaking in her boots and was right by him like a shadow. Putnam applauded them on their insanity as the assassin proposed the impossible twice in one day. Twice in one day you say? Clearly, he did not know about this boy's mindset. He even compared him to the March Hare and the girl to Alice. She may as well be—stuck in this place and time, not knowing when or how she'll go back. There were large rocks protruding from the ground to take cover and trenches that were either empty or full of bloodied bodies. Connor looked across the way to see an open path that lead to the encampment should they thread quietly and raise no alarm. He motioned his hand to his companion to stick close as they went across the battlefield; make like a baby and head out first. There was constant shooting from the redcoats' side, so they ran with a purpose. Cannonballs dug the ground and spewed clumps of dirt violently in the air until they blew out some more bluecoats, spitting up their limbs in the air to scare of any man who wanted to be brave. The novice thought that if this is just the Revolution, then she can shut the hell up about warfare and battles. All of the military games were exhilarating, but getting shot at with over a thousand one-inch musket balls flying overhead was strictly terrifying. Hell, if 2012 was a zombie outbreak, Connor was the first to be on her Zombie Apocalypse Squadron.

Once they got up to the trees and into restricted area, Tsipporah was just glad to be out of the way of that devastation. She clawed at her chest, feeling her heart beat rapidly. This was different from the naval battles, but a battle nonetheless. From where they stood, they sat their target.

"I will have to stay up here, won't I?" the novice huffed.

"There are too many men here. You will have to keep out of sight."

"Can I at least make a distraction just in case?"

"_Do not use your powers_."

"I was gonna throw a rock, you dipshit…"

"Quiet. The redcoats are scouting."

Connor leapt from one tree to another, listening for Pitcairn's movements. The next diminutive leaps and there he was; sitting on his horse leisurely, but alert. A coldness in the assassin's eyes lit up as he stood from his owling position on the tree branch, ready to strike. The head of the redcoats, the member of the Templars was right under his feet and all he had to do now was slit his throat. He thrust himself off the branch, diving in for the kill as an eagle would for its prey….**_STAB!_**The Passage Field was easily expanded, giving the novice the chance to waltz up without being stopped.

Faint cannon fire can still be heard, but the whiteness of the void shut out any visual of it. The dying Templar paid no mind to his surroundings; only the disappointment in his flickering life:

"Why… Why did you do this?" he coughed blood.

"To protect Adams and Hancock—and those they serve. You meant to kill them—"

"Kill them? Are you mad? I only wanted to parlay. There was so much to discuss. To explain… You've put an end to that now; you and your damned observer!" Wait, so… he why put out this pandemonium on their front porch?

"If you speak true, then I will carry your last words to them."

"They must lay down their arms. They must stop this war!"

"Why them and not the redcoats?"

"Do you not think we asked the same question of the British? These things take time. And it would have succeeded, had you let me play my part—"

"Part of the puppeteer!"

"Better we hold the strings than another."

"No, the strings should be severed. All should be free." _Oh, Connor…_

"And we should live forever on castles in the sky. You wield your blade like a man, but your mouth like a child…" he gasped, "And more will die because of that. That mongrel that follows you… she knows I speak the truth. Those Eyes always have…" He whispered in his tongue to the man's fleeting soul and took a folded sheet of paper from the man's body. The novice warned that now that his soul passed, the Field would break in seconds. As she explained, it did so and the regulars yelled orders to capture the assassin of their leader.

"Damn it!" the young woman darted up the trees and waited for Connor to come after. The men below tried to fire, but failed as the two were proven fast on foot. They tree-hopped until they came to a better distance from the restricted area, catching their breath; the novice took the chance to snatch at the paper and failed, almost falling from the branch.

"Well…" she huffed, "What is it?" She saw him pale at the message as he skimmed down the page and folded it back with haste. He said nothing, but noted to stay close. Fear rose up in her chest. It was no fear of death or recklessness of her supposed leader—it was the fear of losing his trust entirely. The Templar pointed at her, saying that she knew that what he was doing was wrong. Killing the Templars would serve no greater purpose and that their blood soaking the battlegrounds would only ignite more conflict in the colonies. She was a history buff after all. These battles were read to her until it tangled up in her neurons. So this is why the Templars laid themselves before her. They knew that the people needed to be put in line and that she was the vital piece to do it, so why not? With just a hunch alone, she led Connor to find something that belonged to the First Civilization. If she could, she would slit their throats instead, but it would shatter the fabric of time and rewrite history. It could not be done.

* * *

"General Putnam," Connor called by name and Tsipporah greeted with comical salute.

"You live," he didn't sound shocked at all to see them in one piece.

"The same cannot be said for Pitcairn." Putnam would congratulate them, but he was ordering a full retreat since he was losing a lot of men. Nevertheless, their supplies and weapons were still in one piece and the threat of losing them was eternally silenced. The general could care less for the hill for the true prize is Boston. _Not exactly_. There were worse things than losing Boston right now. The young native handed Putnam a message that was stained with their enemy's blood. He grew dubious of what he was reading, but dreaded the worst to come.

**"This can't be right. It says they plan to murder Washington!"**

* * *

The revolution paved a bloody road for the colonists for the price of earning freedom and independence. The Brotherhood was long believed to be dead as did the Eyes of the First Civilization with them, but it was lie. They were growing in numbers by recruits of the native assassin and the Templars believed that they were losing on the account of the Americans. Such a lie can only remain as such if Connor advanced with stringent attentiveness. The novice was no far behind, but sank in her own fear that grew and bled inside her. It threatened no plan to prevent the premeditated murder of the Commander in Chief; however, it would narrow her focus as to whom and what can be forgiven.

Tsipporah sat on the rooftop with her sketchbook, scribbling all her stress away in abstract to no avail. What Pitcairn said in his last words still haunted her and hoped that Connor wouldn't distance himself from her. He had his recruits search anywhere for clues that might lead up to finding out who is out for Washington's life, but it was in vain. Nothing came up. Angie spotted her on the roof and climbed up to meet her.

"Hey, babe. Why're you here by yourself?"

"Connor's busy again," she sighed, "I think I'll be sitting out for another year until he tails whoever the hell wants Washington dead to spring out like a daisy."

"So why don't you help him?"

"Yeah… I don't think he wants my help. It's like he's afraid of something. I hope it's not me."

"It can't be you. Besides, Sipsy, he really likes you. You should've seen his face when he thought you were dead saving the native elders. I guess he's afraid that you'll be pushed to use some of that psychic juice. You did almost knock yourself out and he was watching you like a wolf watches his prey before diving in."

"… Like how Antoinette slipped me that roofie and tried to dive in?" she asked, dead panned. Angie gave a stifled laugh and continued.

"Um… no, but Connor was mad then when he found out what she was trying to do to you. I wish you were really awake for that. You only know from what he told you, huh?"

"That's beside the point, though. What are you getting at, anyway?"

"That he has a crush on you, too, girl." The novice blinked once; twice. If this was a joke, then it had a terrible punch-line. As if he would have a crush on her like she did. She could express how she felt about him—her attraction at least, but the guy's less hormonal than a neutered dog. He may have wrapped his arms around her a couple of times, tried to kiss her, and look deep into her eyes to say thoughtful words, but… _the circumstances were all wrong_. They were from two different timelines; their allegiances keep them from getting too emotionally involved, and once he finishes his job of killing off all the Templars, she'll be returned back to her time along with her blonde companion. Tsipporah pursed her lips and looked to the side; pondering of all the worst that can come of this should she pursue irrational behavior.

"I think you're the one who's scared, babe," Angie determined, "Didn't he say you're important to him? Hm? When you came back the first time, you kept talking about how you couldn't wait to see him again and here you are—doing nothing about it. You told him that you would always be honest with him, so… at least tell him."

"No…" she objected, "We've got other things to worry about, like who's gonna murder our future 1st president of America. You don't think that's crucial enough? Huh? Is my bi-polar, topsy-turvy balance of emotions more important than that, Angie?" The blonde rests her case. Her friend has gone off the deep end to turn to politics and follow the way of the order. She stood up from her seat on the roof and jumped down to the open grass. Her words can never reach now. Sipsy was getting too concerned more of the order; the creed, than keeping her absurd liability intact. Sure, Juno told them not to drive themselves through the roof with the matter of the assassins—just let them do their job of butchering targets. They knew better. Tsipporah knew better. What if she would destroy everything Connor has worked for—years of training, more years of practice to become the perfect killer—by just a short verse of three simple words that carried such a passionate bearing?

The novice waited until her friend was out of sight, so all she could see before her was the hillocks and waters of the homestead, save for the residents walking back and forth. From afar, she saw Myriam and Maurice speaking to each other. Seems that they've finally taken a liking to the other's company; Alice would be glad to know of it. She started to wonder if Kateri was going to come back to live with Myriam again. She wasn't lonely any longer, but it still felt empty. No, not for her roommate— shock of battle still stained her nerves. Is this how veterans felt after long years of battle? Maybe after this, she should really celebrate Veteran's Day rather than go to IHOP on a No-School Day. She really needed something to cool herself with… _How on earth does Connor stay so cool when the fighting pauses for a while?_

"_I have died everyday waiting for you_," she whispered to herself, "_Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years. I've loved you for a thousand more. And all along_—"

"Tsipporah!" a demanding voice echoed with an alarming volume that caused the novice to lose her balance and roll off the roof clumsily. The tiling under her slipped out of place, making the fall more dramatic than it seemed to be. She yelled and quickly grabbed the edge as the tiling was disordered by her flailing body that scraped against the rigging, cutting her open along her ribs. She stayed in a dangle until she knew that she could drop down without much trouble and there was the assassin below, shaking his head as if she stole cookies from the cookie jar.

"Don't you _ever_ call me like that ever again!" she fussed as she let go of the edge of the roof, landing on her feet, "Made me drop my sketchbook, too."

"There are others things to be more concerned about."

"Like what? Did you find out—"

"Walk with me around the frontier, and then we will speak." Her head backed away with a face wrinkled like an angry old man.

"Why? Why you trying to get me to go in the dim woods, dude?" He narrowed his eyes, running out of patience. "Okay, okay. I didn't say 'no'; I'm going." She let him lead the way out of homestead, walking behind him. She kept watching his back, admiring the way he walked. His shoulders rowing in rhythm as he pressed forward, his pace as if he was hunting down something that couldn't escape from him, and his hands opening and closing—itching to do something. Good that his way of walking about hasn't changed like other things have. The novice hugged herself even if the air was exhaling a warm summer breath.

"Is there something you want to talk about, Connor? Did you find out who's trying to kill Washington?" she had to stop as they were already far enough from Davenport, peaking into the woods. The young native gave himself a moment to fix his gloves before giving his observer his attention. He meant to go farther than this, maybe into the trees, but he had not much care for it now. He needed to say this now. "Connor?" she walked up to him, touching the back of his shoulder, but he jerked it away.

"Well, _shit_; what is it, then? You did you find?" the suspense was too anti-climactic. He kept giving the silent treatment and it was killing her. Was he too stressed out about the whole goose-chase at last? His face was stern, but his chest was heaving anxiously. The novice rolled her eyes and came around him to grab his shoulders. "Maybe we should sit somewhere…" she looked to the side, "That old log will do." She clasped her hand around her partner's and moved him… with some effort. She had little muscle work done moving a whole boulder of 140 lbs. out of the mill's way, but this man was a damn mountain. With just a little push she finally got him where she wanted. Once she sat him down, he slumped forward out of stress, his face in his hands.

"Oh, Connor," she gripped and rubbed his shoulders, "We'll find that loon trying to hurt the Commander in Chief, you'll see." Her hands pressed further onto his defined strand of muscles, loosening the tension in his neck and earning a pleased moan with a sharp inhale. His arms relaxed and threw his head into the novice's chest. Such a reaction caught her off guard, but she didn't stop her kneading. In fact, she was satisfied to touch him this way. It sort of made her proud that she was able to calm his nerves. The sensual touches almost made him want to lean into her even more than he already did—to requite equal satisfaction and make her gasp in pleasure as well.

"Feeling better, bro?" she leaned to his ear.

"Yes," he breathed out, "There is something I must tell you."

"Shoot."

"Kateri gave birth late last night," the novice leapt over the log to be in front, "There was a set of three offspring—three sons." She jumped and squealed—practically overjoyed to hear this.

"Oh my God! This is great news! You're an uncle… I think. I dunno. Her kids are gonna call me Auntie Sipsy, I know that!" The assassin stood to face her.

"You are barely related to her and there are other things to be concerned about."

"I know, but…" she twiddled her fingers, "Connor? We're old. I'm like the legal drinking age of my time. I'm like… _super_ old. There are things we haven't even done yet, y'know?" This is definitely the wrong time to be bringing up leisure. "Like…"

"We have accomplished many things already, yet they are not enough."

"I kinda meant things like… I dunno, Angie always beat me to these things."

"What are you saying? Enough riddles. What have we not done?"

"Pfft… 'us'? I meant individually where one of us goes to a brothel or give bitch some bands. Get shit-faced drunk. Go on dates and brag about how terrible our relationships are."

"…"

"Sorry… I just realized how serious I was getting about this whole thing. I mean… in the society I come from—you get your virginity out of the way before the age nineteen. It's a thing for teenagers, who knows? Angie got that covered along with three boyfriends and two girlfriends. I socialized more and I still end up single forever. I think I'm getting too needy about not trying too hard, I mean, I'm not even desperate to look for a man. Does that make me boring? I mean, I hate romantic shit; it makes dating me difficult as hell, Angie told me once upon a time and—"

"Tsipporah," Connor called her off. If he didn't, then she would go on and on. It still amused him in some small way that it was one of few feminine things about her. A lock of her hair swung in her face as she was talking, instinctively, he pushed it behind her ear; quieting her ranting. "It is not my place to say; however, it was told to me once, long ago, that good things come to those who wait. Perhaps one day you will know what it is like to truly have someone by your side and such will not be temporary, but eternal even as your spirit passes. Such a glorious reward will come to you in time."

"I think something like that was told to me, too," her voice softened, "That somewhere in my dreams, my… never mind, it is too stupid to say." It was a childish notion. The phrase was too silly to even look back on. This belief came to her through a song that inspired her to do naïve things that adults would think impossible. Connor may have said some immature things that were out of line, but hers were off the deep-end.

"Nothing of yours is foolish. I will hear what you have to say."

"_Somewhere in my dreams, your dreams will come true_… or something that have to deal with friendship. All I know is that one person follows their dream and in doing so—"

"You fulfill another's," he finished under his breath.

"Yeah, like that, but I… I don't know how that fits into this equation. I try to figure us out all the time until I remembered what you aimed for: _freedom_. Things will only get from bad to worse before they get any better." Connor sighed deeply, knowing this to be the truth. His observer may speak in riddles or nonsense, but she was not blind. Should they wait for the pieces to move themselves, their entire effort would collapse. Progress was made, but it is progress that was scarce. Scarce that they could not start anywhere with their current issue; an issue that even the supposed master of riddles could not solve. The assassin lifted his head to the side and looked to the observer with narrowed eyes.

"May I ask you something of a personal matter, Martel?"

"Call me by my first name and I'll answer tree-hugger."

"Fine. You say that in my dream, yours will flourish. Is that of freedom?"

"Yes for the future, so-so for me." It was half the truth anyway.

"Explain."

"All my life, despite me not being so active before I met you I believed in four things essential to living a life of peace: freedom, beauty, truth, and love. Never fought for it, but I pursued the idea of it… because people that were rejected by society believed in what I believed in, but they fought. The day I decided to fight was… saving my brother from getting a beat-down, Angie trying to commit suicide when people bullied her," she held her head and looked him straight in the eyes, "and when I saw that if I didn't jump in front of you on that day in Boston… I chose freedom and liberty over everything else. That's why I hurt myself. I'm no self-abuser—"

"No one is saying that you are," he butted foreheads with her; "You have made your choice with not just your mind, but your heart as well. As do I for my people and the innocent who suffer. However, if we do not find the head of the beast that threatens the campaign raised for liberty… the future will not be the one you've always spoke of. It will be empty and soulless. I cannot let you return home to such a state should I fail." Something in this conversation felt a bit out of sorts for her. Emptiness like never before swelled in chest even though her friend was right here speaking with her. All the things she spoke of in the beginning as they walked out seemed to flow into how she thought how they should spend these monthly gaps from battles and how the other felt about the future of this country. Sentimental things swam back in forth in her mind, but the words were a Rubik's cube to fix into a sensible sentence. He was no different. He was never the type to pour his heart out so easily. His emotions were always kept in check. This was his friend that was deemed to watch his every move when he was out for a Templar's blood. He can't be seen as a weak link to her nor his people. The spirits would be the least of his worries.

"We must leave before it gets dark," Connor adjusted the bow across his torso and gestured for the girl to come beside him. He was no longer comfortable with her just behind him like a shadow. She happily came next to him, walking with a new pep in her step.

"Maybe we should spend this time to destroy British forts, boss?" she gripped his shoulder.

"Until we can pinpoint who is after Washington's life, it will do for now to slow them down."

* * *

Another year passed and as they planned, several British forts were destroyed by the Ghost of the Seas. Connor still ventured in his search for the man who slay Washington and threaten the colonists' climb to freedom. His visits to his village had become seldom. His training had become a daily drug. His observer started to lower her walls she put up against her allies and came to terms of what she wanted should her future be constant. More people took up residence in Homestead—an excellent doctor that was turned down by the English and a colored couple whose farm was salted, and animals slaughtered by bandits. They came to live on this land to flourish in a new, acceptable community, but it wasn't the only new development. As the novice broke her defenses, she grew stronger—or rather weaker. Connor could not tell. He saw, too, that every day she took a mature round of things, but kept to her ideals. She started saying strange things to him—strange poetic things. Every time he would ask her to explain better, she would roll her eyes and cut the conversation short. Tsipporah was less bitter with him now, but her complexity sustained. Also, he saw her in a new light as he went on in his busy days. Something about her now seemed simply… _exquisite_.

"Careful you do not let him go about the battles too recklessly," Achilles warned as he and Tsipporah stubbornly helped the maid in the kitchen. The young woman cut the unions and nodded, listening intently. "Should Connor stick out even more, you'll be in trouble."

"Would the Templars try to kill me, Achilles?" she's been wondering for a while. Of course they would wipe out the assassins who foiled their plans, but what of the Eyes?

"They would not kill you so easily, but it is of much consequence."

"The least they'll do is torture you for information, Young Miss," the maid added, "Starve you, skin you, and toss you in a pit of wolves before talking to you."

"Thanks for the visual, Constance, thank you," she said sarcastically and sputtered, "Where the hell is Connor? Is he buried alive in the basement again?" Achilles shrugged. "I swear that boy is going to suffocate down there. I'll get him. Bring him some water, too." She wiped off her hands and went to the candelabra, pulling it to reach the basement. Upon its opening, she immediately went down to scan the room. Connor was found standing before the wall of the paintings of Templars; their labels and importance, including an "X" for the ones who were terminated. He stood sternly before them, scanning each one as if it held the secrets of life. The young woman shook her head and called for him. Unbeknownst to them, the old man came as well.

"Water?" she offered—_more like enforced_. He took it without objection and downed the drink. "Six forts down, but we still haven't solved our main problem. What do we do?"

"Hmm…" he looked to wall, uncertain.

"How fares the hunt Connor?" his mentor cut in.

"There is progress, but I worry it is not enough."

"You must strike where you're needed most. What if you pursued Charles Lee and your father—what then of Paul Revere and the soldiers at Lexington—"

"_Soldiers_? There were no soldiers in those towns—only men and women who were forced to defend themselves." This was getting into something fierce. As usual, the novice knew not to meddle into the conversations between two grown men, so she went back up the stairs and into the kitchen again. She contemplated on whether she should go fishing instead, but heard the door knock and she went to answer it. As she opened it, she saw it was a white man in proper clothing—a cadet-blue palette of colonial-style clothes for men. The guy was a regular metrosexual of the century.

"I am here at the request of Mr. Achilles Davenport. You must the Eyes—"

"How do you know of my allegiance?" she raised a pear knife to his face, but he barely flinched.

"Worry not. My father was once an assassin. I am aware of the special forces they are handed by the First Civilization."

"Oh!" she lowered her knife, "I am _so_ sorry. Constance, can you make this gentleman some tea. Oh, well pull out—never mind, I'll get myself some, too and maybe for the old man. Would you like to have a seat, sir?" He politely shook his head, preferring to stand instead since his stay was not too long. She was going to fetch the mentor and his student, but halfway to the basement, she heard them argue:

"Encouraging words from one who thought mine a fool's errand!"

"Make no mistake—I still do, but I can't help but feel some pride in your success."

"And why should I give you any credit?"

"Then don't. But first, return the robe, and the blades. And the darts. And all of the years of training and knowledge I have bestowed upon you. Return these and then your words may have some merit."

He reached the foyer and waltzed into the kitchen like nothing was wrong. And he would get on her back for pissing Connor off? _I hate you, old man_, she laughed to herself and handed him some tea. He thanked the maid and the novice, turning to the visitor to show appreciation for him coming all this way. Tsipporah then remembered to get Angie from upstairs since she was still taking a nap. She was probably hungry— there was a stomping of footsteps coming their way and the novice went back to the kitchen counter and acted as if she heard nothing. _Oh, look, a hang nail…_

"Or you could just admit that you were wrong!" Connor appeared to them, angrily. He didn't seem to notice the visitor at all. The young woman tried not to smile when Achilles was lecturing him like he was a fussing six-year-old.

"Oh child, please. You killed two men—one more salesman than soldier. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that to impress me." _Please apply water to burned area_.

"Is that so, old man? Or perhaps we should step outside? I will gladly demonstrate how easily I could trounce y—"he walked in aggressively and finally took notice of the man who knocked before. The whole commotion woke Angie up from her sleep and she came down the stairs to find its source. She heard everything and was more entertained than anything for behind every assassin is a cynical old-mentor pushing his buttons. Achilles introduced the stranger to all. His name is Benjamin Tallmadge and his father was of the Creed. He came upon the news of Connor uncovering the plot to murder the Commander in Chief and knew who is after his life. This was the news they were waiting for. _Hallelujah_! She'd jump on Connor right now, but he'd hand her ass to her if she tried.

"Thomas Hickey's your man and I aim to help you catch him."

"How?" Connor asked.

"I'll explain along the way," he led him to the way to the door, "You and I are heading to New York."

* * *

They left to New York in haste now that they finally have a lead and a target. Thomas Hickey. The first time the novice ran into him was when Haytham practically kidnapped her to their den. He reeked of alcohol and hot sex—something her blonde friend reeked of after a wild night once every Friday night. Tallmadge told them of bad bills being circulated around the city and is pointing towards Hickey as he found it. As long as they tail one of his men, they can reach Hickey under a matter of minutes. Angie, who attended, said she'll blend in. Planning to notify the recruits of the bad bills and do some distracting, but she couldn't do it alone. Connor saw to that, too. He whistled, knowing _she_ was near.

"Gave a whistle there, boss?" a red-haired woman of peachy skin, rosy cheeks, and busty chest came out from the shadows and into the light with her green, skimpy dress. "Nice of you to come back to New York. See you brought the girls back in town, but who's this cutie?"

"Gillan, Tallmadge is here to help. I have something to ask of you." Connor pointed out to the man ahead of them who was being pushed around by the guards. Apparently, he has been sneaking around some fake purchasing prints and was finally caught in the act. He fled to the alleyway, looking around in paranoia. He wanted her to ease him into the illusion of security by entertainment. She would have to seduce him, but such an act would take the three of them. Connor looked at his own partner and she choked.

"You want _me_ to seduce him, too?" she jerked, "Okay, but you owe me €1000 if he tries to lay one on me. If push comes to shove, Angie's giving him a lap dance, Gillan's turning his balls into a chime, and I'll… probably not get involved in the nasty shit they're used to doing." Angie chucked a laugh and rolled her eyes with the red-head swaying her hips to follow the suspicious man. The assassin cocked his head forward for the novice to follow and she grimaced—cursing him out in Mohawk-speak before leaving.

"(Damn you, if I lose my virginity over this…)"

The girls then sought to get the man's attention as Connor silently followed either by rooftop or ground. Gay was the young women's laughter and successful was the pursuit and Tallmadge left them to their way. The suspicious character had some soldiers tailing him as well, but he fought them off and continued his way. The blonde and the red flirted their way to keep his attention—promising something sweet and rewarding—while the novice was starting to get the hang of it, either amusing or fueling envy in the assassin.

"Ever had the dark jungle fruits before?" she asked coquettishly and the man's eyes never left her.

"Maybe the boss'll want to try some, too," he drooled.

"Then come get this pussy, bold ass snowflake," she added her attitude and Angie wasn't sure whether to kick herself or give her friend a pat on the back for putting her own assets on display. When he finally came out of the alleyway, he was joined by another gentleman who wanted whatever company he was getting. They had a small quarrel over it until they came to terms to discuss more important business. They went on and on about how they were going to be heroes and wrapped their arms around the girls, talking of Hickey being a very satisfying gentleman and being very rich. Tsipporah purred in his ear to see if she could get something else out of him, looking to the side to see Connor blending in with the crowd. The two men reached their destination and let the girls in first. It was a bricked house and white door until they went inside.

"The 'ell is this?" a familiar man looked up from the table, but barely moved from his place. He was scruffier than the last time she saw him, but it was Thomas Hickey. A smirk came on his lips when he recognized the colored girl coming through the door. "Well, look who's 'ere. It's the Eyes. Goo' job, boys. Looks 'ike that's one pro'lem outta the way." He walked closer to the novice and the girls moved to the side cautiously by other means while the middle-aged man took the girl's face in his hand. The other men took Angie and Gillan and put them in a full nelson. "I's got orders sayin' I can't kill you. The Eyes are too 'portant for that. We need ya to find the pieces and after that…" his face came closer, "I get ta 'ave my way with ya, if I'm not bein' too subtle. Never did try dark chocolate before."

"You're disgusting," she replied, coughing at his scent.

"An' you're gonna be my plaything once Haytham's—"the door was knocked down along with the henchman holding up Angie and they both tumbled to the ground. The blonde quickly recovered and Gillan proceeded to knee the man holding her in the balls. The novice laughed out loud at how out of hand the situation got so fast. Hickey took her behind him, still gripping her neck.

"Wot's this?" the target stood his ground.

"Thomas Hickey?" Connor brandished a knife and Hickey took the novice to the side.

"Might be? What's it to ya?" the assassin closed in, "Ain't supposed to be none of your kind left."

"Then I wouldn't be here now would I?" the young woman gasped and kicked him in the shins. The hit itself caught him off guard—almost felt like a manly-induce whooping. Hickey saw there was no way he was going to win this fight…

"Suppose I'd be rectifyin' that then. Get 'im." He ran out the back door and into the lanes of New York while the remainder of his men was left to deal with their doom. They barely had to do anything as a group. Connor wiped them out in one swift move with his hidden blade pulled from his sleeve, slitting the throats of the henchmen and barging out the window with a fierce purpose. The girls looked out in unison from the hole that was made and watched the man in the hood run after Hickey like madman. Well, it's been months since he had him some Templar blood, after all. Tsipporah blinked, walking out the front door to see Fillan waiting at the broken window whilst the girls were still inside.

"You goin' after him or what?" he smirked at the novice and winked to his love.

"We'll be on standby," Gillan walked out as well, dragging Angie, "Go get your boyfriend before he does somethin' crazy again," the young woman grimace at the assumption that was constantly made every time they met up.

"He's not my—ugh! I'll be back for you," and she ran off, tailing the loose cannons. She looked both ways and saw a whole trail of people who were knocked over. Finding him was going to be difficult? You don't say? The novice winged her shoes until she ran into the cops. They were probably going to arrest her for something she did. What has done up to this point? Absolutely nothing, but they ran past her and went down the alleyway. It sparked a curiosity in her and she followed them by rooftops. A few more jumps and she found them man-handling both Connor and Hickey. _Ah, man_. She had to watch from above.

"You are both under arrest!" _So much for stealth…_

"Ah well, we were just 'avin' a scrap, officer! Ain't nuttin' wrong with two men settlin' their differences the ol' fashi'n way. Can't we come to—"

"Quiet! What are the charges?" _She guessed he could stand her yapping and not a Templar's… _

"Counterfeiting," another officer brought a bag dropped by Hickey.

"I had nothing to do with that!" Connor pointed; Tsipporah owled on the roof overhead, shrugging and knowing full well where he was going after this. In her time or his, she knew that unless you knew your rights, the cops will blow your minority-ass over. The cops didn't believe the hooded man on his part, but Connor tried to explain anyway. Too bad he got knocked unconscious before he could defend himself. This is bad. Juno specifically said to keep Connor Kenway in her sights at all time when pursing anything pertaining to Templars. Shame she hated the police and wasn't brave enough to—what is she thinking? Her ancestors before her were jailed for fighting for equality! This man she followed believed in freedom—something she rolled around in and painted her heart with. She took a deep breath, scared of what she might do. She'd never defend someone so closely that she would go to jail for their sake. There was no time.

The young woman swooped down and straddled one of the cops, knocking him to the ground and burying him under the fury of her rabbit punches. She tried her "mad dog" routine she did in theatre with Angie, once upon a time. Only now, the punches landed and blood was spilled everywhere. Two more cops down the lane came up to fetch her, preparing an arrest, so she tried her YOLO act.

"Fuck the police! Ahahahaha! Eh, haha…" that ought to get their attention.

"You're under—"

"Arrest! Beat you to it! Now gimme my babe back!"

"You're with this man, miss?"

"You got it!" she threw her head back, looking crazy.

"You both are gonna have a little more time together then… in the slammer!"

Hickey couldn't help but feel entertained by the display. However, he knew full well that she did this just to keep the assassin in her sights. He envied that boy for having such a lively woman by his side. Such fire and energy—he wanted her just for that. Imagine what she could do at night if she could holler all afternoon. They were all dragged to the prison wagon with their hands tied behind their backs, thrown inside.

"Nice display out there," Hickey complimented, "I wonder wot else you can do wit dat mouth o' yours." The young woman flashed a darkened look as they were held back by the cops inside with them. The ride was rocky and every second, they bumped into the wall behind them in the moving wagon. It was too dark save for the lantern the cop held. The novice looked to the unconscious assassin with a grieving expression. It sucked not having to use her powers; especially when she knew she could do more than just slow time at this point. Hickey noticed the stare she was giving to the hooded man and frowned.

"The prisons aren't so divided, I hear. Hope I get to 'ave my fun wit'you. I thought the Eyes weren't supposed ta 'ave a relationship wit assassins, but you do…"

"What's it to you, asshole?" she spat at his face.

"It won't matter. The Eyes like you stay a virgin 'til so they can keep their power. I'll just have to take it from ya. And I'll enjoy ev'ry minute o' it."

"You're sick… and you're gonna lose your balls if try."

"Sounds like a challenge. I gladly acc'pt. Once we're done wit you, I'll 'ave you to meself." _Dear God, please say I won't share a cell with this guy!_ She bowed her head between her knees, hoping Connor was going to beat the crap out of this guy if he ever does touch her. She won't have it… but now she'll have to chain her lower half to survive this time around.

* * *

**What's worse than prison? 18th century prison! I did some research. Apparently, most were co-ed and packed like dungeons. I thought I was going to have to make a separate prison for the OC or a prison break aid, but hey, they can share a cell. The conditions were horrible and people got ill-treated. Prisoners were even tortured and since mental hospitals weren't made until the 19th century-you already know. **

**Anyway, this makes for a good way to bond since the dynamic duo have nothing but time! ...Ok, not literally since they have to save Washington, but bonding happens. So we survived the end of the world! Onward to the New Years! Hopefully, by that time I get to writing about the signing of the Declaration of Independence! :D**

**Hope to see you guys then! Thanks for following! ...Oh yeah, we're close to spending time with daddy... among other things! XD**


	17. Chapter 17: Sentimental

"You can jail a Revolutionary, but you can't jail the Revolution."

**-Huey Newton**

* * *

Little was read about the prison system of the 18th century with the young observer, but she knew of one thing: no different than a dungeon and everyone was clamped here like New York of the 21st century. In fact, it was hell. The conditions were poor with the rat about like a holiday and the walls and floors were barely clean. She could smell it; worst thing is that the lighting was meager. She rubbed her eyes to adjust them to the darkness and thought of the most logical thing to do—search her surroundings. Tsipporah didn't want to do this, lest she catches some disease, but she felt at the brick wall for an opening. If anything was taken out of scavenger hunts, it was looking for hidden places to lead to the next area. She felt at her hair for the feathers and used their quills to scrape into the bricks' border. After she heard some grunting from the next cell, the brick loosened and was easily removed by the hold a single hand.

"Hello?" she called out sensitively, "Connor?" a grunt answered her question. She leveled her eye to the hole she created and saw a figure slumped on the floor. "_Connor_! Connor, wake up! I'm in the next cell." He blinked his eyes for a bit before becoming fully conscious, but his attention wasn't turned to his accomplice.

"_You_." _Who was he talking to_?

"You miss me sweet'eart?" Hickey. _Hickey_? Well, at least they weren't sharing a cell. The novice was too tired along the ride to the prison and wasn't sure where they were thrown. Connor completely ignored his partner, putting all his focus on his adversary, yet… he did not seem too worried. Should she be worried?

"Wot? Nothin' to say?"

"If you are here, then Washington is safe," Connor stated. Come to think of it, placing him here was the primary goal, so all was not entirely lost. Maybe the high chance of bladder infection and black spots, but…

"True. True," he gave a smug smile and turned to the barred door, "Thing is… I believe I've just been pardoned."

"What are you talking about?" Tsipporah heard footsteps coming in from down the hall to their way. Men in fashionably sharp coats came in and nodded at their comrade. It was Charles Lee and Haytham Kenway. Oh God, she thought she'd never have to see them again like this—especially like this. The guard held up the keys and opened Hickey's door for him to walk out and as the novice backed away, her door was also opened.

"Thank you kindly for the rescue gents," the scruffy man boasted. The novice shook her head and the guard came in, grabbing her by the arm to force her out. She didn't bother to fight and was before the remainder of the Templars, hapless. Her eyes kept to Haytham as if she was hanging him with a noose. He simply shook his head and extended his hand.

"We have gone through this charade before, now… I've pardoned you so your duties may be carried out and you continue to be useful. I have freed you—all that I ask is for your cooperation." She thinned her eyes as he came closer, "I am not the enemy. Your aid is all I require. What will you choose?" The young woman kept her eyes front as she backed away dramatically into her patched cell and closed the door on her own. The men frowned deeply and the guard was surprised by this action; notably, even Connor. She always said when they were young that she wouldn't go to the dirty, run down jails for _anyone_ and yet… Why? _Has her mind completely changed that she would risk and brave anything_? Haytham was not moved by this and turned to Hickey once more.

"There can be no further mistakes, Thomas. Am I understood?"

"Wot about the Assassin?" Actually, it was the most logical reason why an observer like herself would stay in such a rundown dump. "'e's here. They put 'im in a cell next to mine. Guess we didn't quite get 'em all, eh?"

"Deal with this Charles," Haytham looked back at the novice with disappointment and left the scene as Charles nodded to his command. Hickey was interested in how they were going to go about the whole thing. Lee gave a very wicked smile—a smile you would see on those obviously evil slashers in a horror film. He approached the novice's closed cell first and looked upon her.

"Shame you decide to follow a dying clan, girl. You have much more talent than what they take you for; only to be used for surveillance when you can be used in much more extraordinary ways," he searched her body with his eyes, "Such power should not be contained and we will not keep it so." He turned to the assassin, "You're that boy from the Continental Congress. Adams' little lap … I think I have an idea. Yes. Two birds with one stone." _This can't be good_.

"Do tell."

"All in good time. It's not like the Assassin's going anywhere and neither is his 'maid'. For now we should see about getting you better accommodations here." Hickey argued that he believed them to bail him out of jail, but that was impossible since Tallmadge has been going about the conspiracy of the plot to murder Washington and now Hickey was being investigated. Well, sucks to be him, but now he's still in the prison, just far away from the two of the Brotherhood. When the men finally left, the novice sighed, wondering where in the hell she was supposed to sleep until she heard her name being called.

"Tsipporah, are you alright?" Connor spoke through the opening in the wall she made. She leaned forward to see him the best she could.

"Yeah… I can't believe they bailed me out…"

"You did not leave. Why—"

"I chose to stay not because of the Civilization or my duty to watch you. I stayed because you are my friend and I am not going to let anything happen to you. I may not be as strong as you, but I will not let anything happen to you, okay?" she slipped her hand through the opening to support herself to the ground and felt a large hand slip in as well, laying over hers.

"You could have gone home faster, perhaps. I am only here to stop Hickey and yet you, yourself, would soil yourself through suffering as well. Such a sacrifice is moving, but not necessary…" he felt at her hand under his. It was a bit smaller and more delicate than his. He wished the hole was bigger so that he could see her face. The fact that the surrounding bricks on his side were tough and unmoved frustrated him so. It pained him to not be any closer for many reasons—one of them was that prisons were mostly co-ed. Although there were few women in prison, it still increased the strong possibility that his best friend would be… would end up.

"Hey, chocolate bean, want to mix some flour and bake some cookies?"

"You in the market for a husband? Bring your balls over here! I'll wind-chime 'em!" she hollered back in a deep voice and all she received afterwards was a blank silence. Connor felt a giggle rise up in his chest. He had almost forgotten just who his observer was. She wasn't fragile or delicate in a sense of persona. He stopped his train of thought when he heard another brick drag out of the wall. Then another. And another. _And another…_

"You look like shit," the young woman yawned.

"You look horrible as well, but it is of little consequence. We must stop Hickey before he is released early. Tallmadge has bought us some time, so we can rest easy for now."

"I wish I knew where my bed was…" her cell was dark even though the barred windows had light peeking through. It must be close to the evening if the brightness was muddled so badly. She was going to feel around for a mattress, but remembered something… "Connor," she hummed.

"What is it?"

"You can let go now." He realized that he was still holding her hand and quickly pulled back with his face furiously blushed. For once, he was happy that the lighting was poor, lest his partner were to see his face through the wall. "Found my bed! Smells like a bear's ass, but I've seen worse. We won't be here for long so it ain't no thing," she felt her hand that Connor released, "Are you still there, bro?"

"I am tired; I will speak to you in the morning."

"Alright… I just wanted to ask if… Do you…?" she leaned against the wall.

"Do I what?"

She frowned and closed her eyes tightly, "…Do you believe in our Lord, Jesus Christ?" _Face-palm to the max_. Connor softly grunted and gradually led himself to sleep. Tsipporah sat in the eerie silence he left her in. She wanted to punch herself in the face for playing it off like that and for saying something completely irrelevant. "Do you have strong feelings for me like I do for you? Damn it, Sipsy! Ugh!" she slumped against the wall and crouched into a fetal position. If she said that to him, how would he react anyway? Would he smile and try to kiss her again? Would he be dumbfounded and leave her hanging? Would he reject her out of his pride of an assassin? Her eyes fluttered into sleep as the questions whirled in her head.

…..

_"Who are you?"_

_"I always mess up my name. My friends call me Sipsy, though._

_"Sipsy… My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton."_

_"_Wow_… does it mean anything?"_

_"A Life that is Scratched."_

_"That's a terrible name. I would've called you something better than that."_

_"I would call you something else than _Sipsy_."_

_"Like what?"_

_"Soaring Bird of the Valley. It suits you nicely."_

_"Hee hee, Indie-'muricans give strangers names, then?"_

_"I thought strangers were said to be scary, yet you are not. You are kind and…"_

_"And what?"_

"Beautiful."

…..

Connor opened his eyes, somewhat feeling as if he was on a cloud or lying on the grounds of home until he recalled where he was. His vision cleared up and he saw the ceiling of his cell as he was laid across on his mattress. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, pestered by the sunlight that came through the barred hole they called a window. As he got to his feet, he remembered the novice who was in the cell next to him. Looking through the hole in the wall, he saw that she was still sleeping—snoring as her back was at the wall. Connor frowned, knowing that she'll ruin her back this way. No, he shouldn't be worried of that still. She was an adult now and should know better, but it was a feeling he couldn't simply shake off. Every little dangerous thing she tried would drive some concern in him. He should worry about more important things like how they were going to escape.

The young assassin looked around to see if something could be shaken up. He tried banging on the barred door that caged him, but all he got was a furious guard fuming at him. He then tried to pull back the bars of the window, but to no avail.

"They clearly spared no expense here," he sighed.

"Connor?" the novice stuck her nose in. In fact, she moved more bricks enough to see Connor's cell. "Good morning. Any plan to get out of this dump?" she stretched, cracking a few bones. The assassin looked to the ground, wondering the same question. Save for the walls and doors, there didn't seem to be a way out of their cells. He gave a deep sigh until he heard something that caught his interest:

"…I'm tellin' ya, he's plannin' a way to escape. We should get in on it!"

"Yeah? And what makes ya think that?"

"Caught 'im carvin' something in the yard. Slipped it in his pocket real quick when 'e saw me. Looked like a key."

"Probably just a shiv."

"Nah. Mason ain't a fighter. Always talkin' and trickin' 'is way outta trouble. Weasel Weems, they call 'im. Sneaky bastard."

"Come one, Finch, he's not so bad. Even taught me some letters once. Gonna write a note to my lady."

"I guess this Weems guy is our ticket out of here if we run into him," Tsipporah whispered, "That's our plan now, right?" The young native furrowed his brows and came over to his partner's side.

"Yes, I shall find this Weems fellow, but you must stay close behind. We should give ourselves 24 hrs. to escape. No more, no less."

"Ok, you got it boss," she cracked a corny grin, "We should probably take another nap so we have more energy for later, dontcha think? Night, night."

"Indeed. We should wake in the _afternoon_ by then," he was going to go back to his bed, but then saw through the hole that his novice was glaring at the barred door. "Patience, my friend. We have a plan. There is no need to—"

"Just go to sleep, Connor," she fussed without looking at him. Connor simply shrugged and returned to his bed. Why was she averting from him all of a sudden? It was a part of her that he was used to, but it was different this time. If he could, he would bash this wall in to reach her—to take her into his arms, caress her cheek, and to feel her curly, spiraling bush of hair. He kept such thoughts to himself, however. He knew little of what she truly thought of him except for what she believes him to be and more. Would her outlook of him change if he were to display signs of affections deeper than friendship? No, she wasn't the type for romantics—she hated it. He laid down and closed his thoughts until they were rendered into dreams…

…

_"What do you wanna be when you grow up?"_

_"To be great hunter for my people, but my aunt discourages me so…"_

_"Oh… like an evil stepmother in Brothers Grimm? That can only mean one thing."_

_"What?"_

_"That you'll meet pretty princess and you'll both live happily ever after when you're older!"_

_"Meet a princess. Are you certain?"_

_"Probably not a real princess, but my mommy tells me that all girls are princesses."_

_"That must be it, then."_

_"Hm?"_

_"You must be the princess destined to come for me."_

_"…" the young girl twiddled her fingers shyly, unsure of what to say, but took up a thick-paged book in her hands, "If you want, you can keep this."_

_"Your fairytales book?" the boy stared wide-eyed. She handed it to him without remorse._

_"It helped me read a bunch of stuff after, so… keep it." The boy looked to her again and smiled, taking his dear friend into his small, yet toned arms. The girl returned the favor, smelling him of woodland and fresh air. She was surprised that even at such a young age, he was a lot taller than she was. _

_"There is something else that really lets you know if your princess is your princess."_

_"What is it?"…_

…

"Get up!" the guard shouted as he abruptly opened the assassin's door.

"Where are we going?" the native was pulled out of his cell to be knocked around by guards if they found his pace a little too slow for their liking. He was a rag-doll for a while until he was downstairs to an open social-turf of the prison at the bottom floor. He looked around, seeing that an entire array of prisoners were talking and figured that he should get straight to the point. He had to find Mason Weems. Inhaling softly, he used his sixth sense to find him. Focusing his eyes, he made use of the Eagle Vision, scanning the room for his target until a highlight of Gold was in his sight line. He went up to a gentleman sitting at a table by himself and asked for his aid. He was reluctant at first, thinking that he was being mocked and saw that Connor was serious about saving Washington. He set the plan: he would reach the man who had stolen the key Weems had forged so that he could escape. He circled around the area with his sixth sense and saw his observer out, looking at him scarcely.

"Are you not well?" he approached her. She kept holding her arms around her stomach and wrinkling her face in anguish.

"I'm getting a little hungry, but it's okay…" she groaned in a whisper, "You find Weems?"

"Yes, but I am afraid that the escape will take some more time than I believed it would. We should rest here for the night. I will retrieve the key he has forged and we will be able to leave." He tried to pat her shoulder and she stepped out his range. This will not do. He honestly wanted to ask if she was touched in the head until he looked into her face. She was pale and ashen, shivering with her knees were buckling. It didn't seem like she had gotten that much sleep either for there were bags under her eyes. He lifted her face to see it better and even her eyes were nearly bloodshot.

"What has happened?" his voice powered. Her body jerked as she tried to speak more.

"L-Lee came back last night when you were s-sleeping and a-asked if I still wanted to rot in prison with you. I-I told him that my answer is still the same a-and…"

"And what?!" Connor couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"He f-forced s-so much…_water_… inside me." she started feeling sick again. Charles Lee had her dragged out of her cell once Connor had fallen asleep, having her taken outside. He mocked her on how she wanted to be headstrong about being in the Brotherhood and thought the two of them should go for a drink—or rather much to drink. She was taken to an isolated room where the guards threw her in a chair and strapped her down, forcing her mouth open. Some type of pliers pulled her tongue so that her throat was open and a tube was shoved down so roughly she spewed blood. _Then came the endless bucketing of water…_

"We will escape. You have my word." The assassin said calmly, but within him was a raging squall. Lee… how dare he… but he was a target saved for another day and what the novice said next was worse.

"H-He said that h-he will come every day t-to my cell d-doing this unless I-I change my foolish ways…" and she wouldn't, "I won't. He c-can go to hell." The assassin nodded and went to look for this fellow who stole Weems' forged key. After a few minutes, he finally caught the man and pick pocketed for the key—and success. By the end of the day, they should be able to escape!

* * *

_Screw it_. They weren't going anywhere. When Connor waited until it was late at night, he used the key he snatched to fit the lock, which didn't work to his dismay. He huffed in anger, seeing that the two weren't going to escape tonight. The key was quickly put away as soon as he heard some footsteps come along his way. That's when he remembered. He jumped back to the hole in the wall and call for his novice. She was only half awake due to the stomach pain that was forced on her. She was sprawled across the floor, croaking and drooling with her eyes half-open; her brows knitted as stone.

"Tsipporah…" he called in a low voice, "Wake up." It seemed as though his voice was the antidote to getting her to full consciousness. She was in serious pain and was neither hungry nor full. A head carried an ache far worse than what she had felt before in her entire life. Her every limb was heavy and uncoordinated, making even sitting up a discomforting challenge. Breathing has never been more painful. Each breath brought upon her wind-pipe a thousand blades cutting every part of her flesh that wrapped her neck and the vomiting beforehand persisted all afternoon—falling out of her like a waterfall. She had just wanted to die already, to stop the pain… _until she heard his voice_. She slammed her hand on the wall and tried to drag herself to a sitting position. Her arm continued a motion to the gaping hole in the wall and stopped. A heavy burp escaped her throat along with blood at the corner of her lip.

"A-Are we… going to escape? Are we-we gonna save Washington?" she shivered.

"No," the young native replied, "The key did not fit the lock, but I shall not stop here. We will save Washington and stop Hickey. And you will no longer be burdened by my missions." The novice's eyes shot open, looking at the foolish boy with saddened eyes.

"Stop—Stop trying to protect me…" she tried to add volume, "I am not a child anymore and neither are y-you. You d-don't think I worry about you every time you go out and infiltrate a fort by yourself or the ruins? I-I am so past the whole kiddy grade t-thing we had going on. I want to d-do something, t-too. I'm h-here not because of the s-spirits, I am here b-because y-you're one of t-the most important p-persons in my life right n-now. I mean, w-why would I-I stay and g-get tortured when I-I can easily t-take bail f-from Haytham?" Now it was Connor's turn to look her in the face with big eyes. Just how much of his character has rubbed off on her? She would allow for even her own body to break into pieces in the name of freedom. He wished for her to not suffer like this. He reached for her hand and clasped onto it tightly.

"I refuse to let anything else harm you. _I refuse to lose you_…"

"You know there are things we can't control, C-Connor. We have free will and make our own decisions, b-but we can't control what happens tomorrow…"

"No," he brought her hand to the wall, enough to touch his face, "You continue to live by tomorrow and we will stop Hickey. And save Washington…"

"I-I'm surprised… No one has tried to rape or kill m-me yet. Should I be w-worried?"

"This is not a game! Enough of your cruel jokes, Tsipporah!" the novice reached out with a shaky hand and felt at his bruised cheek. His eyes were filled with worry spilling over the rim. She came closer to see his face better because of the darkness save for the lit lantern outside their cells. Maybe she should stop being sarcastic at this point. He never did like it anyway and seeing her in this state made him sicker than she was. She felt the air from his lips fume down her wrist as she held at his cheek, caressing it.

"_I have died every day waiting for you… Darling don't be afraid_—"

"KEEP QUIET!" a guard banged her cell, cutting this sweet scene out.

"Well, fuck you, too!" she croaked loudly. Connor urged her to try to get some rest, but she barely moved, staring at someone before her. Connor released her hand and followed the direction of her gaze—_Charles Lee_.

"I told you I would be back for you, Eyes," he smiled wickedly, "Now shall we try this the hard way again or are we going to take drastic measures?"

"Torture me all you want… y-you'll never get me to join you…"

"Then torture you we shall, but let's not leave the assassin out of it."

"W-What?" she looked to Connor.

"Do not fear, but pray that he stays alive long enough."

The guards grabbed the assassin from his cell and threw him against the wall so they could bind him in chains.

"Take this half-breed to the press. I'm sure this girl will change her mind, then."

"No!" she knew full well what the press was. They were both dragged to a room at the bottom of the stairs and underground. It was damp and dark with rats running about. The men led them on with lanterns to light the way until they reached a bloody, wooden door. She didn't like the way it creaked open. It still spooked her as it did the night before. She didn't want Connor to suffer for her sake. They both needed to be alive. Once they were thrown into the darkness, the rest of the lanterns instantly lit up, revealing the rotting torture chamber filled with monstrous instruments. It was no joke. Charles Lee had come to make their lives a living hell. The guards set Connor on his back as his hands were tied to a post with some large plates of wood jammed by a lever.

"I could simply kill you, but no… that alone would not satisfy me," Lee explained, "Your Eyes has more talent than you give her credit for, assassin. The power to find treasures belonging to those who came before us, power to manipulate time—I could go on, but I have little time for that. Such a bundle of gifts from the heavens is she and you repress her use—hiding her from us and now…" he walked over to her face and held it in his hands, "Now you shall know what happens to the Brotherhood you hold so dearly to your heart." He signaled for the men to begin the torment, "Press him!"

"No!" she yelled after him to stop, but he didn't. She tried to turn away, to not see what they wanted her to see. It was impossible. They kept turning her head to look at the assassin be compressed by the heavy-plated wood they cranked onto his back.

"Stop it… just stop it…" she hiccupped, not realizing she had spilled so many tears. Lee nodded and ordered for the mechanism to be stopped. Connor could barely muster a breath as it forced all the air from his lungs and the sturdiness of his joints.

"Hmph. Make no mistake, Eyes. We shall not tolerate your inadequate behavior for much longer. We may not take you today, but I shall make sure that you will search the ends of the earth until you give us what we seek—the key to the Precursor Site. All that you two have spoiled will be ours to use for this world. While you are here, you will be dealt with and I will no longer tolerate your aversion. I shall send the dogs on you and your little friends should you decide to turn away again. Am I understood?"

Despicable was he. He—Charles Lee—had the nerve to threaten them both by means of torture. He needed to realize that he wasn't dealing with just children. The novice looked him in the eyes, deadly, and nodded. The man still smiled, "Perhaps you would like another drink, Young Miss?" he cruelly teased as the guards ensued to drag to a chair and strap her down as her assassin was trapped under weight, forced to watch in horror as his comrade was forced to drink. And drink. And drink. And drink. And drink. And drink. And drink. And drink. And drink. And drink. And drink. And drink. _And drink_…

* * *

The next day was worse. Last night's torture session broke both their backs. Connor had chronic pains in his chest while Tsipporah was stuck retching along the hall to her cell. She even threw up on a guard for spite and weakly laughed; stating that trying to make her drink dirty water was a bad idea in defiance. They didn't say much to each other as they were thrown back into their cells. The pain was unbearable, but their faces stayed stern and proud. It didn't matter what the Templars would do with them; all that mattered was that they escaped and stop Hickey. When the morning came for the prisoners to be about, Connor stopped by his partner's cell to wake her up.

"We will have to find Weems again," he shrugged.

"Sure, why not?" she burped, "As if we have any other bright ideas."

"Stay strong. We will leave tonight this time," he assured, "By one way or another, we will depart this mad place. You have my word."

"…" Tsipporah felt her heart flutter past her pain, "Okay, tough guy. We'll see how determined you are." She stumbled as she got to her feet and walked out of her cell, brushing Connor's shoulder in a tease as he was beside her. She followed the crowd into the open area below, ignoring the wolf-whistles and hollering from the bigger men. Even one tried to grab her ass to no avail when the young assassin broke his wrist upon contact. The novice then went to the table where a scrawny gentleman sat while her companion was stuck dealing with some aggressive prisoners. The young man before her looked up and gave a sly smile.

"I see your lover there is a bit busy," he sniggered, "Did he get the key?"

"Yeah, but he's not my lover," she deadpanned and the man scratched his cheek when he looked upon her deprived face.

"You were tortured," he concluded, "By the looks of it, you have over-hydration. You might want to take in some salt; otherwise you'll drown in your own body. However, I have to applaud you for staying alive and walking at the least. Torture isn't something to simply walk away from."

"Yes," she croaked, trying to resist fluttering her eyes, "And they'll come back… the people who will kill Washington. They'll torture me and my friend even after they go after the Commander in Chief. I can't have him stay—"

"Your key is useless," Connor cut in and Weems asked him of what he meant. The key did not fit into the lock and wasn't even forged to perform the duties of a regular key. In that, his novice had to suffer at the hands of Charles Lee and if something wasn't done, she would have to suffer at the hands of Hickey. The thought alone was enough to make his blood boil, but he would never admit it. Weems calmly wrote in his journal with his quill out, explaining what the key is really for:

"You're going to use it to get the real key off the warden. You have to swap his key for yours." _Oh, like that? Can't be so hard to do._

"Why not just have me take the real key? Why all this extra work?"

"He might notice if it went missing. That way, he'll be none the wiser."

"And when _he_ tries to use it?"

"He won't. That's why we're targeting him."

"How do I reach the warden?" Connor sighed. The novice wasn't sure how long she could keep this up either. Even women fighting for their rights faced a fate worse than death like this and knew that she had better things to do than to just die on a mission. Whatever Weems had in mind, she was all for it. They had to get out. If not, terrible things were going to happen. _Out with it._

"Yes… This next part you may not like."

"Oh, as if I've liked the others? Out with it."

"You need to pick a fight."

"What?" the assassin and his novice choked in unison. The young man said that all the native had to do was pick a fight between a group of guys and he'll be thrown into the pit. There, he'll be able to get to the warden to swap the keys. The novice jerked in her stance, not sure of this. Not the fighting, but keeping track of him. Weems said not to worry about that part. Once Connor gets into the pit, he'll put the rest of the plan in motion. The assassin wasn't too happy about the mêlée segment. He had to do whatever it took, but this was drastic. Tsipporah sighed heavily, knowing that he's going to go on a slow boat with his speed, so she did something only her crazy friend would think of if she was here.

"Whoo! _Guys_!" she jumped onto the young man's table and took off her shirt, swinging it over her head, "Naked tits, gentlemen! Naked tits and the only one in the open court with a really tight vagina! And we also have a virgin native for your convenience." And that's how you start a riot. Men from all around came in her direction with haste and Weems pulled her off the table, patting her on the back with a 'well done' as he covered her. As they got away, Connor was left to deal with the mob of horny men barreling towards him. The guards along the stairwell cheered to see such sport. The 'half-breed' fought like a feral dog defending his own life in a wild forest. He swung back punches and frontal kicks to spare, shattering bones and bruising tendons. Men jumped on his back, but it ended quite badly for them when they were curb-stomped and caught in a suplex. As tragically funny as it seemed, it reminded the novice of the days she went to see WWE Smackdown with Angie and her instructor. She fell out of her bemusement when she saw him get knocked out by a pissed off guard yelling for him to spend some time in the pit.

"Alright," Weems clapped, "You need to get back to your cell. I'll be there for you by nightfall, presently. I'll bring some salt from my secret stash so you can have some feeling back. It's bad to walk around in the state you're in, so get some needed rest."

"I'm a big girl, Mason," she lightly punched his arm, "I can handle myself, but I appreciate you helping me and my friend out like this. Really, I mean it."

"You two seem like good folk. A little on the misfit of things, but good folk," he looked at her hands, "Are you an artist?"

"Yeah, I've had my own galleries and stuff, but I don't brag. When I get out of here, I'm working on painting a portrait of the Sons. I've been thinking about doing it for a while. Maybe doing some statuettes, too."

"I strongly agree that you take on this notion. People after us will look on time with great scrutiny. Record everything you see and let the people of the future never forget what happened here." She nodded timidly. Last time she did statuettes was when she was tasked on doing a project about the Renaissance Masters. Everyone thought it boring, but she didn't. She enjoyed learning something every day from them. Maybe when they escape, she can do a statuette of everyone in Homestead and the native village some ways from it. Yes, she would let historians know who truly saved the country from tyranny. She stood by him, teased him, and shared memories with him… it made her full of regret when she would think that she would have to leave him once everything was over.

Overwhelming emotions grew over time; ones that her heart could not bear. Every touch, every ordinary word, and every action of his drew her near even if they came out a little narrow and naïve. Tsipporah wanted to kick herself for stopping him when he tried to kiss her once; she, too, how his lips might have felt—always plump, yet thin and immaculate. She did not care for her thoughts being so perverse every time she thought of it. She wanted to taste him and take him whole. To not worry about the world for once about her affections would be a dream come true, but would he requite such feelings as well?

Later that night, the young woman sat in her cell, waiting for her escort. She whispered songs to herself in place of impatience. The songs were subtle and sweet, yet mournful as if there was no hope left—not for this world or the colonies, but…

_I sense there's something in the wind_  
_That feels like tragedy's at hand_  
_And though I'd like to stand by him_  
_Can't shake this feeling that I have_  
_The worst is just around the bend_

_And does he notice my feelings for him?_  
_And will he see how much he means to me?_  
_I think it's not to be_

_What will become of my dear friend?_  
_Where will his actions lead us then?_  
_Although I'd like to join the crowd_  
_In their enthusiastic cloud_  
_Try as I may, it doesn't last_

_And will we ever end up together?_  
_Oh..._

_And will we ever end up together?_  
_No, I think not, it's never to become_  
_For I am not the one_

"You sing mournful melodies as if you've already lost the war," a voice said. At first glance, it looked like a regular guard. The novice didn't have the need or the upset stomach to see one right about now. The guard called for her again and she spat and cursed coldly.

"Is that how you greet your escort?" his face peeked through the bars to see her better and she saw who it was. The young woman got to her feet and came to the doors. He passed some salt to intake and opened her cell door. The novice quietly stepped out and looked both ways before having Weems lead the way to the pit. He instantly bound her, creating the illusion of them escorting a prisoner to the pit. Fooled some guards, of course, but some were hard at convincing, so she knocked them unconscious with a rabbit kick. Once they reached the pit area, they went around to a sector of the prison that kept more important prisoners.

"Alright," Weems took off his guard clothing he stole, revealing his prison outfit, "This is it. Who you're looking for is right in this area. We'll just wait a spell for Connor to come up. He would've taken the warden's key by this time and is on his way. Here, take some salt. It'll balance the water in your body. You'll need it."

"Thank you," she breathed, taking the teaspoon of salt, "I feel a little better. I wish I can repay you somehow."

"Don't worry about it. However, may I ask you this?"

"Shoot."

"If Connor is no lover of yours, then what is he to you?"

"It is confidential, but nothing falling into sentiments."

"I see. What about when this revolution ends? You two look at each very longingly even if it is not so direct. Consider my advice: ask him what he thinks of you. I mean what he truly thinks of you. Most likely he feels the same way. This is a war, after all. Not sure when you or he might die."

"I'll remember that, Mason." On cue, Connor arrived and Weems explained to him that Hickey was right in the VIPs of the prison, which had more space and bigger rooms. Suppose even in prison they had caste systems running. The young man was grateful for this aid and promised to one day repay in full. He and his novice went on ahead to find Hickey's cell where he would be finished. Tsipporah felt her knees ceasing to buckle and her limbs relaxing. Perhaps the salt was working. She felt a little better and more mobile. Not enough to engage in a fight, though, but it will do for now. Her eyes shifted to Connor for the while. He had his head as he always did. His face was unmoved and his eyes untamed. Blood would be spilled and she knew it.

"You know where he is, right?" she pressed herself against the wall.

"Yes," he looked about until he knew the coast was clear. They began to move again until they reached their target's cell. The path to here was most unpleasant. Screams from a distance echoed throughout, reminding the novice of her fate for two nights in a row. Thankfully, all of that was going to end right here. Hickey would be assassinated in his cell and they would move on. Connor carefully opened the iron-crusted door until he saw a body lying in the bed. The novice had to give Weems credit. He wasn't lying about the spacious rooms. She rubbed her hands ready to expand a Passage Field as Connor approached the sleeping figure and clutched his shoulders—the body grunted and he quickly flipped him over to reveal… **the warden?!** _Oh no…_

"Not who you was expectin', am I right?" Hickey's voice went off behind them. The novice leapt back beside the assassin and put her hands to the level of her eyes. The target gave a smug smile with a pistol in hand, commenting on how pretty Lee has made her just for him.

"Go give your balls a hickey, Hickey," she retorted and another figure stood at the doorway. He also held a pistol and a murderous look in his face.

"What have we here?" _Speak of the devil, it was Charles Lee himself_. Connor instantly pulled his companion behind him and he scowled. "Really, I thought we finished off your kind. And to have dragged _something_ most precious into the equation—the Eyes of the First Civilization. You know she belongs with us, boy. She has no use for your method of freeing the world of tyranny for the future."

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" he snarled, "To rid the world of all who do not share your views. Like I, _she_ has made her choice and you would not accept that."

"Guilty as charged," Lee chuckled and walked into the room, pointing out his gun, "Your meddling in the revolution has caused us no small measure of grief. It cannot continue. Our work is too important. But what would you know beyond the lies Achilles feeds you and the tales you tell yourself."

"They are not lies!" Tsipporah argued.

"I know the people wish to be free," Connor added, "and that men like Washington fight to make it so."

"_Please._ The man is weak. He stumbles and stammers through each engagement, making it up as he goes along. His pedigree is pathetic—his military records are even more so. I could go on and on, but we'd be here for days." She really didn't like him coming too close with that pistol in her personal space at all, but she had to stand her ground. She didn't want to look like a punk and neither did Connor. They trained never to show fear in the face of the enemy.

"He must be dealt with," Lee decided, "You as well. I will abide no more flies in the ointment. The observer shall come with us and will do our bidding. You will no longer be a threat to our society." Hickey came in to rub it about how they planned on putting him back in his cell and pinning the premeditated murder of the warden and George Washington. Then they would take the novice back with them to make use of her powers that remained dormant, thus still making her a novice among her people. Perhaps when they were done making use of her, Hickey get to do with her whatever he pleased since her powers were of no concern at a later time. The target licked his lips as he looked upon the young woman, already seeing her whining under his merciless touch.

Such an image ignited a rage in Connor to kill them both with time for them to spare a breath for themselves. He lunged forward to shatter Lee's skull, but was countered and pressed against the wall instead. The pain in his chest kept him from doing further damage, so there he was—short of stamina to his dismay. As Lee had the assassin where he wanted him, it was almost as if a light-bulb went off in his head. The young man's face and this very moment and the young woman's defenseless figure before them—_this seemed all too familiar…_

"All those years ago… The child in the forest was _you_," he turned to the novice, "And that worm of a girl who stood by him…" She wasn't too sure what he meant by that, but then again, there were suspicions roaming around that the two met before. Dreams sparked in her head that carved in worse than the boogeyman or any myths she'd heard. Something about adults back then scared the shit out of her and she could never remember… And a boy who ran with an eagle, mesmerizing her every time they… met. _That man's face…0001001100101000100101000101 001001111111…_

"That face…" she whispered to herself, "the woods… that time…! You were there!"

"Awn," Hickey cooed mockingly, "Looks like she fina'ly remembered us. I was startin' to think dat she was playin' dumb wit us, Charlie."

"To think we're all here back where we started," Lee was truly amused by thie coincidence.

"I said I would find you," Connor reminded and the novice demanded that her assassin would be released.

"And so you have," Lee ignored the girl, "But not quite as you had expected, am I right? You know, all of this might have been avoided, had you only done as I'd asked. Ah, but what's done is done."

He applied enough pressure on the native's neck to suffocate him into unconsciousness, leaving the novice vulnerable. Just as they wanted. She felt helpless, but strained to be stoic on the outside—showing no fear, but she knew better. She cannot hurt them unless it is someone of the Assassin bloodline. It is law. A stupid law that's going to get her killed. Knowing Connor, he'd make a break for it if he wanted to, but she was stuck in a sausage-fest prison being one of the few women there. Hickey closed in on her. She recalled, finally. She thought every scene back then was a dream as a child. No it was not. Just as Alice fell down to Wonderland and thought to be dreaming still, she had come to this place again meeting the same people she'd spoken with. He was real. Those days with a younger tribal boy were real… and so was this danger…

"Surrender, little girl," Lee pointed the pistol to her head, cornering her, "Your little prince cannot save you now." He mocked her just as he did in the past. She was smaller back then, but she wasn't the timid little girl anymore. She was no longer the same kid from their memories.

"I'm not afraid of you," she braved, but then a dulcet sound came in and echoed through _the halls_… _the cells_…:

_Kuwata tsunowo vralai, tsuriji pfuralekai, _

_kwondzuvai undovartsu wronduwail, _

_Tjortetei jeki liago, Jiunmata ivelischpfuli, neftyoma sorepiyamei, _

_Schijiyako alefni fatalliliya, Nic'hpisfa unhoreselye, _

_Otrajain aforeje kurasolda, Towari hatasei mic'hatasei tsufrallai, _

_Otrajain aforeje kurasolda, Towari hatasei mic'hatasei tsufrallai ilja_

In seconds, everything stopped. The novice didn't even realize that she was holding her breath the whole time. Instinctively, she reached out and poked Lee's shoulder. No movement. Not even with Hickey either. This was neither strange nor frightening. She had a chance to escape! To leave this hell and no one could stop her—Connor. He not only lay unconscious, but his breath was still. He, too, was frozen…

"Let us go, little one," a calm voice commanded, "There is not much time." It was a woman; a native woman. Her cheekbones were high and defined, her eyes brown as fresh honey, and her skin as golden as the sky in twilight. She knew this woman—met her even…

"Ziio…?" the novice breathed, reaching out to her, yet her hand instantly phased through her bodice. She gave a disappointed sigh and looked at her palm, then back at the woman. "But… Connor said you were dead."

"You finally remember those days with me in the Valley, don't you?" she gave her classic side smirk, "And you remember all that you could do. My son did not know at the time, but you were destined to meet with him again as time passes. Over time, your memories were reduced to dreams not by the Civilization, but by your fears—your fears of being incapable of changing one's fate. Now that you have braved yourself, you finally remembered."

"…But what about Connor? Right now he's—"

"I told my son long ago on the day of my untimely passing that I would always be with him whenever he thinks himself alone. Only by losing you does that make any of my words count for naught. You must live to be beside him no matter who the enemy is and what the circumstances may be. He will not die as easily as I did and I will not allow it. There is a promise you must live up to." The woman raised her flickering hand to be latched onto. Tsipporah hesitated, looking back to her dear friend who lay unconscious and frail. No… Connor was anything but frail. He has survived many trials to be stopped now in this place. He can survive, she believed it. Just by that alone, he had nothing to worry of her. He will slay the Templars—she could feel it. Her hand instantly touched Ziio's and everything faded to white.

…

_"…" the young girl twiddled her fingers shyly, unsure of what to say, but took up a thick-paged book in her hands, "If you want, you can keep this."_

_"Your fairy-tales book?" the boy stared wide-eyed. She handed it to him without remorse._

_"It helped me read a bunch of stuff after, so… keep it." The boy looked to her again and smiled, taking his dear friend into his small, yet toned arms. The girl returned the favor, smelling him of woodland and fresh air. She was surprised that even at such a young age, he was a lot taller than she was. _

_"There is something else that really lets you know if your princess is your princess."_

_"What is it?" he pried for an answer of the century._

_"True love's kiss!" she cracked a gingerly grin, "I heard it's something adults do when they really love each other. It's… like everything around you disappears and it's just the two of you."_

_"So if we feel such a thing, then we would be true lovers?" the boy stared at her curiously and the shorter girl nodded vigorously. "Then why not now?" he leaned in close._

_"Because we'll catch cooties and Mommy Zee doesn't want you doing that 'til you're married… I think." The boy looked to the side and faced the girl again, putting an arm around her shoulder._

_"I won't tell if you won't tell," he playfully brought her closer and she giggled, knowing what wicked things he was up to. No way was she going along with this. She didn't want to get in trouble with his mother again. It's already been a week and now he wants to try to see what kissing's like? Wasn't the hugging, the peck on the cheek, and truth or dare enough for this boy? Ziio was going to spank her bad for this…_

_"Hush! We're still playing hide and seek, remember?"_

_"Can we just try? I do not wish to wait so long and who knows when you will have to return to your home in…"_

_"Tortuga. It's far, though, so I dunno." She shrugged and saw the bitterness forming on her best friend's supple face. His chin was in the air and he looked at her through narrowed eyes, not wanting to wait too long on this. Sipsy had no choice but to succumb to his wishes. She didn't know how long before she was going to go home, anyway._

_"Okay, but just one for ten seconds," she put her tiny hands on display to make a point and the native boy took them in his, folding them so she couldn't push him away. He felt pretty nervous doing this, but he slowly brought himself closer to her until he could feel her breath mingling with his. Such contact had all the blood in his small body rush to his face, reddening his skin. He gathered his courage since he brought this on himself until he thought he heard something. Quickly backing from his stance, he turned his head and saw two white men in suits coming towards them with weapons that would shoot fire. The boy scrambled and grabbed the girl, tossing her into a pile of rubbish before being chased away…_

…..

…..

…..

…..

…..

"Tsipporah! Oh my God, Sipsy! Speak to me!"

"Tsipporah, my dear friend! Please wake up!"

Voices were crying her name and her eyes shot open, sucking a lungs' worth of air. She looked around—or at least, she thought she was looking around. Her vision seemed more… broader. Her mind seemed focused and clear. Did Juno do a tune up on her or something? She didn't feel as light-headed as she did when she was forced to drink so much dirty water. Wait… her stomach didn't even feel like it was going to burst either. Her skin wasn't as clammy as she raised her hands to her face. She felt fine. Her eyes wandered as she saw the familiar faces around her with tears covering their faces. It was the neighbors of Homestead, the dragon lady of the Mohawk Valley with her daughter, her daughter's husband and their children cooing in her face. Looking around, she could see that this was her room in the manor. Even the old man was here…

"What I miss?" Tsipporah finally said and saw that even her own voice was rejuvenated. She wasn't croaking or hurting at all anymore.

"_You idiot_!" Angie grabbed her shoulders and shook her, "you really had me scared. I hear that you're in prison with Connor, then next thing you know, the elders found you sleeping in the Precursor Site like a baby like nothing happened! And here you are with your hair lookin—"

"Prison… _with Connor_!" the novice tugged at her hair, recalling where she was before. Connor. He was still in prison! Charles Lee and Thomas Hickey were there to frame him and they were going to succeed in killing George Washington. She knew those bastards long ago. That's why she felt prompt hatred towards them. They threatened both her and Connor as children, setting them apart. They were doing it again—separating them so the Brotherhood could not succeed, but Creed or not, she would do something. The young woman relaxed her hands and set them down… _a white hair strand_?

"The hell's happened to my hair?" she dug at her scalp.

"You've been touched by the spirits," Alice said, "Clan Mother says this happens to Those Who Watch Over. Auntie Ziio must have seen you and freed you from your chains. Your eyes are also lighter." Ziio… observers had to keep each other alive, but protecting the assassins was done by assignment. She had to see him…

"Guys… Connor's still in prison."

"You don't think we know that?" Achilles pushed his way through, "You may want to think that you're going to rescue him, but don't hold your breath. He just has to call for us and that'll be the end of it. All we have to do is show up. He will not die so easily, girl." _Yeah, he wouldn't_. He's as stubborn as a mule. He will do anything to make sure that all of the Templars perish. The promise of a freedom is something he didn't take lightly. Tsipporah looked to the old man and everyone surrounding her.

"We have to just show up you say?"

"I assure you—that is all we have to do," Achilles nodded.

"Then it looks like we're gonna have a motherfuckin' party."

* * *

**Rescue Connor? Connor Kenway? Like he needed rescuing, just give him a tomahawk and he's good to go, son. We finally kill Hickey and get to spend time with daddy next chapter and... yes. Yes things finally happen. Possible lemons, too. I can get pretty descriptive with those, so... yeah. So spending winter time with Pops, yay! And fangirls get to fangirl. Let's just say that Angie has something or someone to be proud of the morning after. **

**The holidays are closing in and so are the new years. Spent my Winter Break good already. I'd say five more chapters or so and I'll be done with story before the middle of February. If I keep up the whole 9000-10000 max for word count, that's all it will take, then. So get merry for the season, people.**

**Merry Christmas, Followers and Readers! And Happy Holidays! :D**


	18. Chapter 18: Independence

_"Remember not only to say the right thing in the right place, but far more difficult still, to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment."_

**Benjamin Franklin**

* * *

Achilles thought this a fool's errand indeed. The now, white-haired novice went about tirelessly through the night in Boston and several small towns on foot or on horseback looking for the recruits for her daring assignment. She even stopped back in Concord to find Sam Adams and John Hancock to tell of what happened to her beloved companion. At first, they barely recognize her for her urgency and vigilance since the march on Lexington and Concord save for her change in physical appearance. Honestly, she can only claim that her appearance may have changed due to the minimal contact of Ziio's spirit. Once she reclaimed her memory of being here when she was a girl, she could also recall times where her vision altered and her hair doing mind-boggling things. Once inside Adams' place, Surry offered some food, but it had to be refused.

"I have to refuse, Surry," Tsipporah pardoned, "I'm in a hurry."

"Sugar…" she frowned, but the novice was serious. She can't dawdle around and twiddle her thumbs while the Templars roam free. Connor had always told her that and now she's taking it to heart. She went to jail for this man and he did all he could to keep her out of trouble even when some of their shenanigans were started by her. Something had to be done. He could escape if he wanted—she knew that. The fact that he was going about it alone shot through her heart. Tsipporah thought she'd never feel this way about it… but she would rather die than let the person she loved so much die this way—especially this way—framed, shamed, and in chains.

"I have to go, gentlemen," she tipped the tricorne on her head and excused herself to leave at once.

"We shall inform the others of this," Adams promised, "Chapeau will gather the others. Make no mistake; we will not abandon our own, Tsipporah." She didn't look back, but acknowledged his words with an unseen smile. She mounted her horse and looked to Angie who was on a horse also, giving her a mischievous grin all night. Her friend already knew what that was all about. She would harass her about what she planned on doing once she 'rescued' Connor. The two took off and left the town.

"So are you planning on laying him off once you two get back to Homestead?"

"Angie," she sighed as they galloped at half-speed, "That's not important. What's important is that I get there in time to expand a Passage Field for when Connor kills Hickey. Washington is still in danger and the Templars are targeting him. However, they seem to be taking the grey side of things. They seem more like anti-villains compared to the Assassins."

"Sipsy, babe, I know you can do your job and Connor with his, but I just wanna know when you two are gonna fuck." She always got straight to the point; never beating around the bush, either. When her eggs were sizzling, she wanted them cooked one way or another. The blonde wanted the same for her friend—at least once. "Come on, you're always cranky and so is he. You two have been looking at each other longingly, say sweet things, rekindle—just fuck already!" Tsipporah halted her ride and looked to her friend with a tormented face. Why was she telling her this nonstop? Does she think she doesn't wonder about these things, too?

"Angie, you know I'm no whore like you and I do care about Connor… a lot," she gulped, "but I can't just say these things. I thought it was a childish infatuation, but it just grew over time. I actually am in love with him. The truth of it hurts even more because once all of this ends; we'll never see each other again. I really want to be by his side—"

"Don't tell me this, babe," she snapped, "You tell him those things. You keep saying that romantics aren't your thing. It used to be your thing when you were practically a baby, but then reality bit you in the ass like it bit him in the ass. Just tell him what you just told me. The truth will set you free, so tell him the truth about what you really feel for him." Travel the road less traveled. Sounds a bit risky, but what choice did she have?

"Can do it for a lot of reasons," she concluded.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" the blonde screamed in frustration, "Why not?"

"His grandmother said that he is in mourning and cannot be in a relationship until she decides that he is no longer in mourning."

"For what, exactly?"

"His mother…"

"You said you talked to his mother!"

"Yeah, but I can't go against customs here."

"So?" Angie shrugged, "Kateri's been sucking her husband's dick before he became her husband and—"

"Say what?" she grimaced when she heard a bit of information she didn't have to hear. That was unexpected. She stayed silent the rest of the trip after that, but not without having random fits of giggles thinking that Kateri was a bit of a wild one before becoming Alice. The girls had just about everything ready. Now all there was left to do was be on standby and wait in New York.

…..

The recruits were in on the crowd that would appear. According to Gillan's sources, Connor wasn't going to have a trial and be immediately taken to the gallows. A small alarm and panic rose in the novice's chest as she sat in the streets of New York, hearing this. Those bastards… they would make sure that the assassins would be killed off promptly. Charles Lee was a part of Congress, so it was no surprise. It was also no surprise that Lee was in Congress in the first place since Congress is a group of baboons. She bit her lip and paced around until Chapeau spoke out. He crossed his arms and looked around the area. They all huddled in an old alleyway that no one barely passed by, forming a plot to throw the Templars off and have Connor have his way with Hickey's life before robbing Washington of his. Dobby gave a side-smile, throwing in her two cents of what they should do, which proved to be a helpful addition. The others put in their share of ideas until they all came to conclusion of how this should all come together. They broke apart in agreement to this brilliant scheme and decided to park themselves in a nearby inn that was close enough to the gallows while others were hiding out hiding out in the streets or bars.

"Are you ready to save your baby, babe," Angie announced loudly, standing on the counter of the inn. The novice simply nodded and looked down at her folded hands. She was going to do this. Hopefully, he calls out to them when he sees them. She would make sure he knew that his recruits were ready to be given orders. This would get real ugly fast if things went wrong, but several back up plans were set up should Hickey and Lee pull a Xanatos Gambit on their ass. There was too much psychology pulled around to know to avoid it, too. In the morning, everything was going to go according to plan. She had the key—no, she is the key to setting it all off and Connor the ignition. Whether or not it will be proven true, he cannot die tomorrow.

…

The young assassin woke up with a start and an angry guard kicking his side for him to rise-and-shine. He got to his feet, groaning at the pain in his chest and clutched at his clothing before walking out, having his hands tied behind him. It was then that he realized that he was getting out of his own cell. At that moment, all the events of the night before came back to him. His partner being tortured, threatened, and Charles Lee with Hickey explaining of their plans with him and the observer… such thoughts enraged him inside. He would kill Washington and have his way with his best friend—he would not allow it. Even if it costs him his life, the country could not lose their Jupiter Conservator and him his Eyes of the Civilization. He would think that now, but things began to change between them. It pained him a little that he did not see her once as he walked out of the prison until he walked outside. Still, it is better to know if she is out there free or captured than a mad place like Bridewell Prison.

A wooden carriage built for prisoners was hooked onto a few horses pulled up in front as the guards dragged the young native out. He remained quiet and passive, storing the urge to kill until Hickey was right where he needed him. He was thrown into the wooden wagon, left in the dark; so to speak and the cops sat inside along with him. Adjusting himself to sit upright wasn't much of a chore, but Connor didn't bother about it and lay on his side as the wagon rocked against the rocky lanes. All he could gather from last night as he passed out was hearing the voice of his mother. Her songs echoed through his head so clearly that he thought for a moment that she sprang from her grave. His concern for Tsipporah still had him guessing. Just about anything could have happened to her. She could've escaped, the Templars finally captured her, or perhaps something else may have happened. If Hickey were to put his greasy hands on her, he swore he would—

The wagon stopped and outside he could hear crowds yelling angrily, chanting incoherently and rain pattering down. The door was opened and one of the cops inside shoved him out, causing him to land on his shoulder into a muddy puddle. The pain erupting from the impact weakened after a few moments, but the pain ruptured in his chest and a soft grunt passed his lips as the falling rain drenched his body. He heard footsteps come his way and thought it to be another cop…

"'Ello, Connor. Didn't think I'd miss your goin' away party, did ya? I hear Washington 'imself will be in attendance. Hope nuttin' bad 'appens to 'im." The wanted target brought the assassin to his feet and teased him of the gallows and was questioned as to why he would have no trial. Guess traitors weren't given such a freebie and Connor was to be immediately hanged; Haytham and Lee saw to that. A figure with white, shining hair in the distance curled up her lip in annoyance at the target's arrogance. He had a lot of balls to be talking some shit like he just won. The figure turned away into the shadows to blend into the crowd. Connor didn't notice the silhouette leaving plain sight and looked to Hickey.

"I will not die today," he marked, "The same cannot be said for you." He could have sworn he heard passing giggling from the rooftops. The cops pushed him forward to keep quiet and a few figures scampered on the roof. The figure of a woman wearing a bonnet and a colonial dress hopped along the roof with a couple of others dressed similarly. She didn't want the sunlight in her hair despite it raining cats and dogs. It captured a lot of light now, so it was annoying to keep it out in the day as she discovered the hard way. She followed her assassin by roof, watching as the heated mob threw their arms in the air among other things like rotten tomatoes, old bread, and rocks. The novice furrowed her brows at the sight of Connor walking up the clear aisle made by the prison cops and Loyalists. Why did this remind her of Passion of the Christ? She frowned deeply at how Chapeau got this all together. She couldn't decide to thank him later or lecture him about what she meant by, "Make sure you keep the redcoats busy."

Connor continued to walk with his head low, but he saw from the corner of his eye that Washington stood out, watching all that had happening. Hickey was still leading him to the gallows where Lee waited with a vindictive smile. Unbeknownst to the Templars was the fact that they were falling into a dangerous web. The novice almost lost her cool when she saw a woman punch and spit on her companion, but was pulled away by Achilles. A smile played on her lips as he spoke to his apprentice. She knew what was to happen afterwards. Her companions and her yawned as Lee started a speech—a rather ridiculous one about Connor planning on murdering the Commander in Chief. By this time, the assassin should've noticed the recruits hidden in the crowd with his sixth sense. She should be in his sights by then, too. The novice tapped her foot, waiting for the signal to come. Lee covered his head with a brown-cloth bag as he finished his speech and as he said, "May God have mercy on your soul," the wooden flooring fell under him, forcing the noose that was put around his neck to choke him on his own weight. Tsipporah stepped to the edge of the roof she was on, which was directly over where the gallows were. A mini-heart attack was bursting in her chest when she saw her beloved companion kicking wildly and choking on his own capacity. She had almost stepped in on her own until she finally heard it… _a whistle._

There it is! The recruits sprang from their positions on the roof, from inside nearby buildings, and from within crowd. They brandished their weapons and took down any Regulars or guards in their way. Achilles volunteered to cut his student down before anyone else had to make a move. He had an excellent throw with a tomahawk in hand, aiming for the rest of the rope that hung out and freeing Connor in the process. Once he was under the floorboards where the old man should be, the young woman ran down from the roof and down the aisle, pushing through the crowd in order to be in reach of Washington. Hickey would be down here very soon if he was serious about killing the Commander. It was chaos where she was. Everyone was screaming, yelling, running, punching guards, and trying to leave the area so fast. It didn't matter much to her about the crazy mob, she narrowed her eyes to see—_there he is_! The target was running at full speed with a bayonet in hand, barreling towards the Commander in Chief. A wicked smile grew on her lips.

"Nice to see you again, Hickey," she called out to him and he stopped to look at her, which was a terrible mistake. Just as he was running to his target, so was Connor. The moment he looked at Tsipporah, the assassin had already had his hand around his nape and the other holding a deadly weapon. In an instant, he buried the blade into the man's back with a fatal blow to end his breath. The novice put her palms together as she walked near them with the whiteness following. In seconds, the Passage Field took over and Hickey had nowhere to run.

"You were the most fucking irritating target to kill, you know that?" she ranted, taking off her bonnet, "To think I had to plan all this just to see you get killed. _Ugh_!"

"Dammit. I thought I'd at least live to see another day… Shame." Well, too bad.

"I want answers. Why did Johnson try and buy my people's land? Why was Pitcairn targeting Adams and Hancock? What purpose would Washington's murder have served? Why does your order support the British?"

"How should I know? The Templars, Lee; the big man Haytham. They 'as the money. The 'as the power. That's the reason I threw in with 'em. That's the _only _reason. Sure they 'ave some sort of vision for the future, too. I didn't give a damn about any of that. They can sing their songs about mankind and it's troubles. They can make their plans and spring their traps; don't bother me none. They paid me, so I said yes. Didn't bother to ask who or how or why. Didn't care."

"You chose to side with men who would rob us of our humanity simply because it was more profitable?" Connor couldn't believe what he was hearing, but his novice did. Once upon a time, all she cared about was an adventure far from home and thought to stay for some thrills. When the fun got out of hand, she wished to go home and not care of anything else. For the while, she pretended to care. It was different now. Hickey was no different. The Templars came to this land to seek new beginnings and just about everything was going wrong for them now. This one, however, didn't rely on principle at all; just something you can bring to the bank to turn in for some euros. Connor pitied him. This man had to struggle his whole life, but he was complete realist.

"Don't look at me like that," the bloodied man scoffed, "We're different, you and I. You're just some blind fool who's always chasin' butterflies. Whereas I'm the type of guy who likes to have a beer in one hand and a titty in the other. Thing is, boy, I can have what I seek. Had it even. You? Your hands will always be empty. You and your little trophy there."

Then everything started to clear up and surrounding them were the bluecoats with their rifles all pointing to both the assassin and his observer. Putnam came up to them and put them at ease, saying how these two were heroes and kicking Hickey's body with little sympathy.

"Stop," Connor told him.

"He wanted to kill the Commander. Nearly killed you and dared to put his hands on your friend here," he gestured to the novice, "He was a scoundrel."

"But still a man," he countered and Putnam simply huffed at his expense. The two could care less about that. They needed to know where Washington fled and the general told them that he left to Philadelphia by now; fleeing the scene as soon as the execution went all kinds of wrong. That's where they needed to be then, but first they need to prepare for the trip. They had to return to Homestead.

* * *

Tsipporah lugged herself to her room and tossed herself into bed that late afternoon. Her entire body was moist and her clothes were damp from the heavy rain that continued to downpour even now outside. She sniffled a few times and contemplated on changing out of her soaked form, but the fatigue was too overpowering. Her companion called for her plenty of times, only to receive grumbling and inconsistent moans. This annoyed Connor badly, shaking her out of bed until he was forced to drag her out. She kneed him in the chest and clutched her pillow, recoiling into her sheets. This pissed him off even more. She was still this devious and rebellious even after all they've been through. They didn't have time for these games; they had to prepare to leave to Philadelphia! He tried to grab her again, but she already motioned for a head-butt. _He couldn't just let her sleep for a while_? Plus, they both needed a bath badly. Lord knows they've been deprived of that since they left the prison. The novice for sure because she spent all last night gathering the recruits and men to aid her boss, but the ride home was uncomfortable. He barely spoke a word to her or even looked at her. It made her sick beyond compare. Now that he had something to say, it was when she didn't want to be bothered. She would hug him and say how worried she was that he was to die, but such sentiments barely sparked in her gender.

"Get up, Tsipporah," he tugged her sheets again, "We must prepare for the trip!"

"I wanna sleep… five more minutes…" she whined into her pillow and Connor crossed his arms. Finally, he grabbed her by her hips and pulled her out easily. She jumped out of her guard, shrieking at the roughness, but he would not let go. Her hips were wide and inviting, but he would go no further. He rubbed his thumbs at her sides, earning a lustful moan from the young woman. Such was not his intention. The supposed woman he held now seemed to breathe uneasy and cease her struggle as his thumbs gingerly pressed at her sides. Her back arched in, protesting to no avail. At least she was awake now.

"Connor…" she gasped, trying to hide her wanting of him, "Take a bath at least. You stink. I stayed up the entire day yesterday planning your escape from death and I'm tired as hell… and you can't… _ah_…" she yawned to cover more of her moaning than anything else, disappointed that her snarky talk failed to turn him away this time. _Was he… planning on having his way with her this time around?_ His large hands were on either side of her hips and her body stood against his—_a little too close for her liking_. Unconsciously, his arms weaved around her waist and pulled her in closer to his being while she withered under his touch. She wasn't awake enough to be in this position and to take advantage of it. Her rear was too backed up against his member and his breath was fuming onto her neck. Gathering some shards of her composure, she turned to face him. As she gazed upon his face for that moment, she saw that his bruises were still intact and fatigue was written all over as well. That was that—they both needed a break from the madness they've dealt with for the past few days.

"Hey, um, tree-hugger?" she hummed and he snapped back to reality.

"What is it?" he still had his arms around her.

"Do you think I was like Hickey back then?" He instantly released her from his embrace to spin her around to face him. Such a question was absurd (at least he let her go now). She was nothing like the men he's killed—not then, not now.

"No," he debated, "You are nothing like him or any of them. You are proud and compassionate. Courageous and loyal. I wouldn't have wished for another observer should something happen to you." A lock of her white hair came across her face as she tried not to tear up, rubbing her face and sucking air through her teeth. Connor gathered the lock of hair and brushed it over her ear as his eyes were locked with hers. Her change in face didn't bother or peak his curiosity much. He loved her all the same, though… he wished the words would come so easily off of his tongue. Something in him had always hoped that she sensed this about him long ago. She dove in too deep with psychological study that she would know how to lie and confuse others, but with him, she was different. However, there was one problem in saying such things to her, though. She was too snarky and—

"Aw, Connie," she took a handkerchief out and wiped nonexistent tears, "That's so, so, so, so, so, so, _SO_ sweet of you. You really think I'm courageous?" She was too playful and would rather think of the both of them as friends.

"You were tortured as a result of taking a stand with me. You did not yield to the enemy and for that I am truly grateful."

"Actually," she corrected, "I did it for myself. I know I talked a lot of bullshit in the past about fighting for freedom, truth, beauty, and love. Now I want to prove it to myself that I really do. Not to just… prove others wrong, but yeah, had I not stood with you, I wouldn't have found out what kind of person I could be. So… thank you, Ratonhnhaké:ton." She smiled, "Thank you for everything." He smiled back before leaving the room to prepare for tomorrow. He closed the door behind him and left the novice to herself. She collapsed into her bed, but now she couldn't close her eyes. For some reason, she wanted him near her again. She knew what the reason was; she always knew. Every part of her being had been repeating it. In the beginning, she thought it to be a childish fantasy, but now she was sure of herself. Rolling to her back, the young woman bit her lip with uncertainty. There were other important things to accomplish here. Washington, America's first president was still in danger during this time. They had only two Templars left to take down… _Just two_.

"Just two?!" she shot up to her feet with the epiphany that it would be almost time for her to return home. What if this was the last year to live in 18th century? She would be home—where she wanted to be—but then she would leave behind her friends and comrades… and Connor. A sick feeling churned in her stomach as it dawned on her that there was not that much time left to spare with her friends; even more so with the assassin. All of the bloody adventures shared will be finished. She rubbed the sweat forming on her brow. Perhaps now was a good time to go take a bath.

* * *

Something about this date brought about an excitement to the novice and she didn't know why. Of course, it was just a feeling, but decided to have Angie come along with her just in case. The last thing she needed was for her to miss out on such a glorious occasion. What glorious occasion? Not sure at all, but she had a gut feeling that it was. The blonde asked what the date was and by the telling of it she already knew. She kept her companion in suspense and asked the assassin, the leader of their operation, if they can come into Congress with him just this once to see this meeting. He curtly permitted them entry as one-time visitors and that would be the end of it. As they came into the Independence Hall, Achilles—who had come as well—confessed of how proud he was of Connor and that he succeeded in nearly toppling the entire Templar order. Even Tsipporah was shocked to hear him call her by name—the correct pronunciation of her name with an added compliment.

"I can't believe what I just heard," she scoffed, "You're saying nice things about me, Achilles Davenport? Are you going senile already—_UGH_!" he pressed his cane onto her foot without mercy and lectured her again.

"Do not take it as a compliment; whatever the boy does goes straight back to you. Perhaps you're not much of a nuisance after all since he got this far." He released his torturous hold on her and she lost feeling in it temporarily.

"I didn't do anything for him. It's more like what he's done for everyone and me."

"Of course, his entire endeavor circulates on the product of freedom and as someone of your culture and time; it is what gives you the inspiration to pursue it, is it not? It is only natural that you would follow him."

"Enough, old man," Connor interrupted, "Just as the people have grabbed a hold of their share of freedom, so too, did she. And you are wrong, Tsipporah. You have done everything not just for me, but for the colonists as well." She wrinkled her face as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Looking at him now, he wasn't the cynical, rude boy that she met in the forest anymore. He was more honest, proud, and kinder than any man she had ever encountered. She kept wondering when one of these days he's going to turn into an axe-crazy murderer with little remorse for life or get so worked up over the revolution that he just abandons everything altogether, but it hasn't happened. Not to mention that he had her in his strong arms and did nothing to take advantage of her. It was starting to drive her up the wall that he wouldn't, too. "Come," he took the arms of both observers, "The men are preparing something inside. We must join them at once." He opened the doors to the meeting room.

"Okay…" she looked back to Connor, "I had a feeling that something good was happening today, but now I am completely lost—…_OhBondye mwen an._" As the girls entered, they saw the men going up to the table while the Sons in Congress stood to sign a large fold of paper. It wasn't just any paper they were signing, too…

"_AAAAh_!" the novice squealed and held each other, fangirling until they had tears in their eyes. Samuel looked up from the table after signing and gestured for the three to come this way, and they obeyed. The girls thought they would lose their minds and the young woman knew that today would be a good day: it was the day of the official signing of the Declaration of Independence. Today was the birth of a free country. In the past, the novice would only be excited for this as a history buff, but now her feelings got involved and truly appreciated the birthing of this nation. The rest of Congress went ahead to sign their name in and Benjamin Franklin went around the table to meet Connor's entourage.

"So you must be the right hand men of this fine gentleman?" he chuckled and kissed the hands of both women and they giggled. "Tsipporah Martel and Emily-Angelican Burke. We've heard nothing but exceptionally wonderful things about you. However, it seems Mr. Kenway has failed to inform me of how beautiful you girls are."

"Oh, thank you, Ben," Tsipporah cooed, "I can call you Ben, right?"

"Call me whatever you desire, young lady," and they laughed.

"Well, Connor," Sam gave him a pat on the back, "You are once again our savior. It is one thing to declare independence. Now we shall make it so. Tsipporah you should be proud of your friend here of his accomplishments. Yours as well. Seems you have grown since the first time we've met."

"Oh, yeah," she remembered. She was half-conscious and can only hear voices at the time, but she met him. He led the two, the assassin and her, out of the city and onto a ship to get them away. Surry left with them to tend to the girl who was done in by an elite redcoat. The rest of the night was riddled with pain, blood spilling everywhere, and her screaming with every herb filling and stitching. _That night was pretty memorable_.

"Oh?" Ben lifted a brow, "She is _just_ a friend of yours Connor?"

"Yes," he nodded and the novice leaned on his shoulder, "She has been loyal to a fault ever since we've met. There is no one else I would have chosen to follow me closely." Samuel and Hancock exchanged a look from across each other. He would allow her to lean on him so easily? Must be serious, but is he sure that they were just friends? "Pardon me, but once this meeting comes to a close we will prepare to speak to the Commander. There is something we should discuss."

"Until then, I'm going to admire Hancock's signature here," the novice joked as she circled around the table to see more signatures. It was like a dream come true and something came to mind. "Hey, Connor. You're in Congress. Shouldn't you sign, too?" The men chattered and agreed.

"No, I couldn't…"

"Come on, Connor," she pulled his arm and riled up the men, "Kenway! Kenway!"

**"Kenway!" "Kenway!" "Kenway!" "Kenway!" "Kenway!" **

"Enough!" everyone quieted, "If it pleases you then." He took the quill, dabbed it in ink, and signed his name in a modest size, placing the quill back in the ink container afterwards. He adjusted his gloves as the men cheered and glared at his 'loyal friend'.

"Hey, what kind of friend am I without the peer pressure?"

"You're insufferable," he walked out of the room.

"What?" she shrugged, "Seriously, without the whole snarky front and the complicated sex affair, I'd be a boring character." The assassin waved his hand back in irritation, yet his face carried a smile—an honest smile. It is true that her jokes were cruel and her humor even more so, but oddly enough it is what drew him to her. Kateri's voice echoed in his head about her being maternal, delicate, and caring. She has shown these sides of her more and more as they spent time together. However, he could never confess how he wished she would stay. No, that cannot come to pass. He would be no different than his controlling aunt. He was fully aware that she was to leave as soon as his work was finished here. The very thought of her disappearing without word set him on edge. His face was stern, but his eyes were curling with mixed emotions and he pinched the bridge of his nose until the girls exited the room to meet him.

"I officially cannot go back in," the novice huffed, "Benjamin Franklin is a pimp. He openly flirted with me. …I feel like a cool kid now."

"I told you he's a man-whore," Angie slapped her friend's rear, "Just wanna try some Belgium chocolate and spread some vanilla cream; have himself a sundae." The girls laughed with sport and stopped as they saw the old man and his student standing quietly. This was either good or bad and it looked like it was leaning more towards the bad. Tsipporah stepped in between them, filling in for the awkward silence.

"So…" she started, tapping her fingers, "Do we just skedaddle or do we just stand around in suspense here? What's wrong boss? Old man? Someone fucking talk, please."

"Connor here would like to inform the Commander in Chief that he is in danger. In doing so he will exploit all our plans." The old man sighed and shook his head in disappointment, "Deal with this, Ms. Martel. He will listen to you at most."

"Uh… ok… Connor, come here. Step into the light where I can see you."

"I will not argue about this."

"The hell we won't. Not here. We're going home."

"The Templars—"she turned and covered his mouth with her hand.

"Enough, dude. Your childish banter bores me. We're going home." He grabbed her arm so that she lifted her hand from his face and scowled.

"I will not stand for your childish banter either. We still have work to do. Washi—"she grabbed his ear with her free hand.

"We can play twister like this all day, young man. Stop spewing conspiracies out in public. Secret society, remember? 'Silent as the shadows', _remember_?!" she whispered in a hiss. All this did was serve as entertainment for the passing Congress members who had no idea what they were fighting about. From their point of view, they saw a bickering couple and the woman trying to set him straight. Angie wished she had popcorn right now and a cushion seat to enjoy the show. The elder sighed, seeing that this wasn't being handled the way he had pictured it. He had thought the girl had truly matured by now, but he supposed that it was not so. He stunned them both by knocking their heads with his cane and the fussing stopped with both of them looking to the old man.

"Enough of that, you fools. There are grown men watching you." The two of them looked around, seeing the Congress exit the room while some others watched them and waved guiltily. Among them were Adams, Hancock, and Franklin. Well, this is embarrassing. This isn't awkward at all. The two 'adults' let go of each other and dusted themselves off to regain some dignity. The men in the back gave a slow, dramatic clap as the two tried to play off their fighting. Now was the perfect time to get the hell out of there, so they did.

…..

The carriage ride home was certainly uncomfortable. Mainly because Angie brought up the most inappropriate things when the two were giving each other the death glares the entire ride. She wondered at all if the two were listening to her, so she started saying random things:

"So, Sipsy? When are you and Connor planning to fuck?"

"…"

"When we get home? When you guys are almost done with your jobs?" Then they would ensue into another argument the moment she mentioned 'job'. Connor got started with explaining that perhaps sticking out like a sore thumb was inevitable and that warning Washington of his fate would keep him safe, but Tsipporah begged to differ. She agreed with Achilles that keeping this information from him would keep him safe instead; "Ignorance is bliss" at this point for them. And they are in a secret society. They can't just run around and divulge confidential information. The Central Intelligence Agency in her time is no different among any other militant agent. They don't just go up to the President of the United States and tell him that a potential threat was on his life so he should keep his eyes and ears open at all times. They, themselves, were the eyes and ears.

"You can't just go up and tell people these things, Connor!"

"Washington will never be safe in his ignorance. I know from experience."

"No, you don't know from experience. You think you do, but that was before Achilles or I had to step in the picture and tell you what's up. There are certain people that have to know about subjects like this because you were born to be here. Men like Washington weren't."

"It does not mean he should be left out of this. He is involved."

"There are a lot of men involved, you fucking idiot. Welcome to the war."

"Do you truly believe me to be so childish? For once in your life, little girl, acknowledge me as an adult. Perhaps then I will heed your words."

"Stop trying being so cocky when no one's watching you. If not for your mentor, you wouldn't be writing. If not for me, you wouldn't be reading. And if it hadn't been for your mother, then I wouldn't be able to help you at all."

"You are confusing my being with yourself. And do not drag my mother into this. I am speaking from an honest opinion. Does that, in itself, make me haughty?"

"Yes, especially when you poke the finger of doubt of why some people are insignificant—pointing out my flaws and shit. I know you're my boss, but that don't mean that you get to rub my insincerity and nihilism in my face."

"There was no need to. You were already doing it to yourself. You claim that I salt your wounds when you are simply pointing your finger and blaming others for whatever happens to you, so enough of calling me 'boy' when you have barely aged beyond fourteen."

"Don't you dare to fuck with me, Connor. I learned the Lotus technique and I could easily rip your heart out. It'll be like picking an apple from a pile of leaves."

"Would you like to see if such a technique will work against me?"

"I will mop the floor with you! My foot'll be so far up your ass that the water on my knee will quench your thirst—"

Angie had to break up the fight. It was getting too out of hand. They were already deadly as it is to their enemies. She was surprised how they kept their composure around some redcoats. If they both went on a killing spree, hand-in-hand, no one would be able to stop them because she has actually seen her friend pull out someone's heart once back home on impulse. Her first kill was so messy that she decided to go back to stunning with weapons instead. Once she discovered how deadly her own hands were, she grew more afraid of herself. Connor wasn't wrong about her. She does point fingers at others when she's unable to do anything. Why not? She was used to being pulled down to something lower because of someone as a child so now she sports in blaming people. At least now, she can admit her own stupidity. The blonde was real thankful for that with Connor. Her friend has gotten more brave, caring, and stopped thinking of herself. She smiled to herself about it. There was never any time to spare for her when she was busy training and dancing. This man managed to drag her around without complaining about her. He must be truly fond of her despite her attitude, but… their little friend-zone act was getting too overrated.

* * *

The dispute didn't seem to stop from the carriage ride home. Looks like they were back to square one and it stalled both of them for months on end. When Connor stubbornly went along with the choice of telling Washington of his being endangered, it lead to the notion of telling him everything about the Creed, the Templars, The Eyes—everything. Tsipporah didn't like it one bit. It was her job to make sure that he chose the correct path and this was hardly doing so. As much as she considered him a hero with an honest, humble heart, she did not regret calling him a boy. Even the dying words of some of the Templars echoed in her head as she heard more childish things spew from her boss's mouth.

One night of October, she sat on the roof, carving away at new statuettes she managed to get to. She had enough gusto to finish them since this was the only thing in the world right now settling her nerves. The tool in her hand chipped away any leftover pieces of clay that ruined the face of the hand-sized busts. Her lip pursed, not sure what to make of her next set. She was still working on Connor's and it was killing her. So much for the passion… Her hands urged her to finish the work and get started on Achilles' bust. All that Connor had argued about with her really pissed her off to the point where she actually was considering ripping his heart out. If he ever shows his face around here, she swore she would—

"Tsipporah! Come down here at once!" he called out impatiently.

"Go hunting or something, you ungrateful child!" she turned back to her work.

"Enough of this! We are settling this right now."

Screw it. She'll never finish this bust or maybe she'll make two Connor Kenway busts—one for history to remember and the other to keep for a pin cushion. There had to be another way to stop all of this madness. She already had white hair that refused to cease its growth, so now she was stuck cutting it every day and night. The last thing she needed was this guy rattling her nerves. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as her heart was beating faster and faster. She could really kill something or someone right now and before she knew it, Connor was on the roof right with her. Looking at her ceramic tool, she thought it could be useful for something else—nope. She can't hurt her best friend—

"We will settle this with a sparring match," he hovered over her.

"I'm gonna go to bed," she forced a yawn and got up to dust her hands, but the assassin had her by her arm, "Look, babe, as much as I'd love to beat around the bush; I didn't bring you your recruits and drag Achilles into the equation just so you don't say 'thank you'. At first, I was going to run to you—hug, kiss, that sentimental shit—but now…" she rose to her feet and dropped her tool in annoyance as the assassin readied himself for the worst.

"Now?"

"Now I'm gonna beat on you like white on rice!" she yelled as she kicked the excessive dust from the clay slab, creating a mist for her to disappear in. The young man waved his hands and coughed, searching the roof for her presence and used his tracking to his advantage. He heard her jump down the tiling and threw in a rope dart to stop her. As she almost got away, she felt something rip and pull at her collar. After seeing was it was, she frowned and pulled the whole rope forward, but the other end held a firm grasp. They had a small tug of war match before the novice fell on her face hard to re-enact a 'death-drop' and 'play-dead'. Her body remained unmoved as she heard footsteps come near her and she couldn't help but smile inside; but he knew better as well.

As soon as Connor's foot was a few inches from her head, she grabbed his boot and sprung up to upper-cut his jaw and was quickly countered by his open palm with his other leg coming over her, slamming her entire form back into dirt. In the confusion, she failed to notice her hands were bound above her head and didn't realize it until she tried to reach for a throwing-knife. The assassin's firm figure straddled the supple, tone bodice so stubbornly that the novice could barely bend upwards without his gravity pushing her back down. This was_… frustrating_. He kept glaring into her face and she wrinkled her nose. Again, she had forgotten how strong he was. Grappling against him was out of the question.

"Get off of me!" she whined, twisting her body around, but it made no difference. In the past, she was thicker and heavier than most boys. Now, with all the training and exercising, her physique became more womanly and flexible—yet it can now be easily dominated if not for her cunning and speed.

"You side with the old man and I am aware that you are beginning to take the side of the Templars," he sneered, "And now warning the Commander will be such an enormous issue that you will consider it to be going down the wrong path?"

"I won't erase you if that's what you mean," she ceased her struggling, "I never wanted to. People end up doing stupid things all the time; boys especially. Juno doesn't understand and neither does Achilles, but even he knows that young people make mistakes and are capable of screwing things up for everyone. Usually, I wouldn't give a shit, however, I…" Tsipporah bit her lip as she knew she was in a very awkward position to be having a heart-to-heart with her best friend. He barely made a move to free her from his grasp. His groin pressed up against her torso; enough to keep her pinned to the ground, but able to speak out to him.

"You what?" his face came lower to see her better, but his hand locking her wrists together kept its hold. The sinuous body beneath him tensed and she turned her head slightly, and gulped at the closeness of his breath… his eyes… his lips… All this contact forced the answer out of her system. They had daring times spent with each other. Many men fell and many men rose to eventual freedom—even her. He had changed her ways of insecurity and bi-polar narcissism the many more months upon years that she has stayed. Even now… she thought this was still a fantasy she wanted to realize as a childhood dream, but thought a dream would be all it will ever be until now.

**"…I love you, Connor!"** she blurted, closing her eyes tightly as if she was waiting for a lashing, "I could've just dealt with all this drama to myself and—I can't, okay? At first, I thought you were just some guy I can just find adventure with and we could be best friends, so I thought 'What the hell' and just went with the whole observer idea so I could go home, but then I met everyone—your tribe, your friends, the recruits who want to see this country free, and it made me proud to be an American for once. Then next thing I knew it, I found myself doing crazy shit with you and never felt an ounce of regret… because I felt something more—" her hands were loosened and the weight that held her down lightened as she felt her arm being pulled up to stand on her two legs. Her eyes stared at the ground, afraid of what he'll say. He probably would say that building emotions like this is not becoming of an observer of an assassin or that she should forget this whole night. Tsipporah groaned and rubbed her neck, eying the manor and turning to go back before her heart gets stubbed into the ground, so she started walking.

Something grabs a hold of her arm.

Her entire body froze upon the sudden contact, fully aware of whom it might be. Choking on her own breath, she shakily inhaled, but dared not to turn around. The back of her temples sparked and pained her as if she was to spill hot tears.

"Come with me," he leaned into her ear from behind with an inviting, warm breath. Her heart was fluttering now—not beating, but fluttering. It did not count in time as it should. It sped up and slowed down without warning, hitting against her diaphragm so clumsily that she could've dove into a cardiac arrest. She finally had the strength to move and turned around to see her beloved's face, but… he wasn't there. The trees at her side rustled a disturbance and a rhythm of branches rocking continued until sound faded. She knew what he wanted her to do. Tsipporah ran up a tree and latched onto a tree branch to climb up. Looking around from where she stood, she stopped as soon as she eyed knifed tree branches with eagle feathers hanging from them. Had he… plan this for some time?

"What am I doing…?" she held her chest, not sure of what she just got herself into. No matter; she had to brave herself through the darkness of the forest trees and follow the marked branches, so that's exactly what she does; picking up every shiv that she found along the way. Every step and leap caused the anxious lump in her throat to swell. Her eyes kept forward and her hair gleamed in the moonlight, dancing in the air freely. It seemed like forever before she ended up in a clearing of the woods and she jumped to the grassy floor. By that time, her impatience cleared her throat and the weight on her nerves lifted. Her heart was still fluttering, though as she watched out for Connor. Unfortunately, all she could make out was the moon shining down as a spotlight and the trees patching up a shade. Ok… where is he—

"This is news to me," his husky voice came from nowhere and the novice shrieked, unsheathing one of the knives she retrieved. Her guard dropped, seeing that it was just her companion a fair distance from her. "You preserved your emotions only because you found a love interest in me?" he circled around, which was something that really peeved her, "Why have you not said anything before?"

"Uh, because there were more important things to do… there never seemed to be a right time to tell you," it was half the truth and he narrowed his eyes, knowing she wasn't confessing everything, "And the shaman in the Mayan Ruins said that it'll end bad for the both of us if I try anything with you… bad things will happen." His eyes never moved from her and he stepped closer to see her face, lifting her chin up with his right hand.

"Yet here you are, telling me this," he said in a low voice, "I was not wrong in calling you courageous, then."

"So…" she sighed, "That's it. That's all I got on the brain right now. Came out of the closet. All that training and my emotional level is on high, so I guess I'll be going to bed now—"he stepped in front of her, holding her from leaving.

"You never cease to amaze me, Tsipporah."

"What?"

"As it would be breaking a cardinal rule, have you ever considered that I share the same affection as you do for me?" All the blood rushed to her head so quickly as he spoke those words that maybe sitting down was appropriate for this occasion, so that's what she does. Wait… what was he saying? Did he…? _Does he_…?

"Oh my God…" she clutched her head by the sides as Connor knelt down to her. He felt the same way about her? She was more shocked by the fact that her long term crush this time was requited at last. Every other subject she's been involved in with him either pissed him off or had him ignore her for weeks on end. He even admitted to not take any liking in her sassy attitude, but he actually…

"For how long?" she looked up to him and his eyes were lit up as their gaze locked.

"Once the Aquila was rebuilt and your leg healed. I could never tell you then since…"

"…" she looked to the side, recalling what kind of girl she was before, "Oh yeah, I was a bitch back then to you… I'm sorry. We have liked two Templars left, too. I thought now would be a good time to tell you this—"

"There are three left, Tsipporah," he corrected and she wrinkled her face. She straightened out as she remembered that one of them was a man she tried to forget because of the one incident at the Vineyard, punching Connor in the arm for being pig-headed then and pig-headed now. For once, he didn't respond back to her snarky remark. His drift into silence didn't worry the novice; he was meek in nature. He was the quelling air to her squalling maelstrom. They seemed to sit in the tranquility of night before the assassin decided to say something.

"Are you looking?" he took her hand and she looked up from picking at her nails.

"Looking at wha—"all around them were small, multiple lights floating gently in the air, flickering as they passed slowly in their own blanket of stars. They buzzed timidly in the shade and dared not to show themselves more in the moonlight that bathed the two of the Brotherhood. For once, the young woman's eyes grew childishly large as if she's seen this scenario before in the past. This simple serenity was better than anything the bust cities of her time could offer. Nothing could overrule this natural beauty. Connor watched his observer as she stared in awe of the tiny lighting that preferred the shade and reached a hand out to cup her cheek. A gasp passed her soft, full lips and her breathing nervously picked up as they gazed in each other's eyes once more. At times like this, she would say something unappealing for a rude shock, but her mind was gone; drowning in the desire his eyes. It was clear what he wanted to do with her in that moment. He would savor this moment with this young woman. _He would make her his_.

* * *

**Lemon start! :D**

**I was debating whether it should take place on the ship or on land, but then my deviant friends voted land since it seemed more fitting. Best way to write scenes like this is with... silence. Other scenes I needed inspirational music, but now I needed the empty air to write this toward the end. Now nothing shall get in the way of me writing the McNasty scenes! :P Angie would be proud.  
**

**SO we survived the end of the world, celebrated Christmas, and we are now in the new year... soon. Now the 2012 movie'll be a comedy! Aside from that, thank you for following, new followers! I appreciate the love.**


	19. Chapter 19: Paramour

**To anyone a who forgot what the rated was. You've been forewarned. Rate M for content.**

* * *

_"There is nothing new except what has been forgotten."_

―** Marie Antoinette**

* * *

The blonde observer already knew what was taking place right under her nose. She's seen this coming for quite some time. The tension between her two allies had gotten worse over the last few months. All she had to do was give them a little push, separately. Problem was that they weren't just celibate—they were uninterested in laying, period. They were too immersed in the revolution and their loyalty to the Brotherhood as well as the colonists' cause… Angie was fed up with their complexities, but that wasn't even it: the two hardly knew how to deal with the emotions they had bottled up. Not a day passed by when Connor approached both his cousin and herself, asking what "you women" liked. _Really_? She had read about his ancestor—_Ezio Auditore_ da Firenze. He was a social beast who constantly surrounded himself with beautiful women. This boy she stood alongside with was a far cry from such a historical figure. She had to explain a few things, but not without slipping a little 'present' from the present into his pocket. The flirtatious girl even told her about her friend's weak spots—points of her body that is very sensitive and ticklish with her. Sipsy already loved him enough to want to admit it, but wasn't sure if Connor was going to be mature about it and tell her to keep her emotions to herself. She had to make sure that wouldn't happen. Her mind kept wandering to the early morning as she now looked at the gentleman before her. Well, if she can call this man a 'gentleman'.

"I told you you'll be seeing more of me," she smirked as the Grand Master paced back in forth, losing his patience. "Why did you help save your son from the gallows anyway? You're a Templar and he'll kill you."

"Not yet. He is still my son and therefore I must let him see the ways of _our_ world."

"You sure?" she swayed, "Because the way I see it, he is nowhere near the gray. Everything is black and white with him. He gives you mercy and you spit on it."

"We have no time for mercy," Haytham sneered, "Only time for the future. Let him play as he does. We cannot afford to falter and embrace the Creed of desperate old men. Nothing can be sufficient should we strive for peace."

"See, this is why Ziio left you. You can't hope to be with your only son because of your pride as our enemy."

Haytham halted his pacing and turned to the blonde, then to the stars. "It seems that even my son has touched you in the head," he remembered his lover had always said things like that to him whenever she thought his plans to be completely fanatical. He fought the smile that threatened to break at his face. They were in the dark of the alleyway, so there was really no need to be coy or stern. He had other plans. Angie could say whatever she wanted at this point because it wouldn't matter. Every time she came to the Grand Master, it would be to taunt him, but now she pleaded for this dim-witted feud to end now that a broken family was involved. Connor wasn't the only one conflicted of this.

"Whether I sound crazy or not doesn't matter," she sighed, "Your son needs you and both of our ideals meet. Don't you think it's time to help the world move on as well as ourselves?"

"Yes…" he had his back to her, "And we should start by eliminating the rest of the Assassins and claim the observers to ourselves. All of this will end. Just not the way you would want it to be. If peace is what he strives for—he will have to resort to assassinating me. Until then, my men will be after your kind." As he said these words, two women emerged from the shadows—women Angie knew too well in history and now.

"Gillan… and Eleanor Mallow?" her eyes widened to dinner plates, "Gillan, why…?"

"Because the last thing I need is to find a place to live. Big Papa-Wolf Connor is cool and all, but… you know the green is all I need."

The women snickered as they closed in on the blonde as she readied her rifle in for the melee of her life.

* * *

Tsipporah wasn't sure how this was going to happen, but somehow it was going to. A spar would've been better. The scenario was too perfect to pass up and her body froze as the young man cupped his hand at her cheek. His hands were always so soft and gentle with her… _Well, when they weren't fighting of course_. His face closed in on hers and she wanted to back away instinctively, but he moved his hand from her cheek to her nape and she gasped at the shift. The last thing he wanted was for her to talk him out of this. She clearly didn't know him that well to see his predatorily stubborn demeanor at its full potential, but she knew the look of lust anywhere…

"C-Connor—"his lips were caught in with hers, tenderly pressing for a taste as he had never known a woman before. He gave himself a moment to relish in the softness of her plump lips as his hand ventured through her unruly curls and locks. The young man's mind unraveled as he pulled her closer to himself as she still tried to get away timidly. The novice had never thought her first kiss would happen like this. She had never imagined or dreamed that it would be something as irresistible as this… _or satisfying_. Her companion's—_no_—her beloved's lips were too desirable that her breath for air erupted as a moan from her throat that earned pleasurable gasp from the other. Connor broke the kiss and pulled back by an inch away from her to see her face. The young woman's eyes were half-open, drunk with longing. Her body shuddered under his touch as her arms remained limp at her sides. Such a vulnerable look caused a sweet swelling in his nether region. Sipsy couldn't recover from the pleasant treatment she just received. Her mind was boggled and stupefied still of the fact that her own "boss" adored her secretly if not being almost conservative about it. The air was quiet save for the crickets and rare movement of the forest animals. She had nearly forgotten where she was as did he for once.

"Why did you stop?" she exhaled, sounding desperate for more.

"Did you want to go further than this?" he asked because he wanted to do this, but he would never take her by force if she did not want it as he did. He wanted to dominate her _badly_… if she would allow it. The novice took a moment to touch her lips and looked to the man before her through a glazed vision. The very sight of him threatened to break all the defenses of her. Her eyes shut tightly as she felt a small flood of electricity between her legs—her body submitting to the very idea of being sensually bucked until she was over the edge. Trembling hands gripped the grass, but the assassin was steadfast and she saw it. All of this couldn't be wasted and for what? _Because she was scared of a little bump and grind in the middle of the forest_? She lifted her arms off the ground and pulled Connor down by his collar with a purpose.

"I want you to take me all the way…"and he retaliated by pushing her onto her back, pinning her to the floor in a straddle once he got the answer he wanted. The wind got knocked out of her. No way was she objecting now.

"Then I will not stop until I am done," he pulled off his gloves and loosened the leather braces of his forearms as well as his weapons. Why did she say that? What's gotten into her? She knew she couldn't take back the words she said aloud. Suddenly, it had gotten unbearably hot under her colonial jacket, but it was only October; she shouldn't be this sweating like this. The novice slipped off her own gloves and took a look, seeing small beads of sweat roll down her palm—a large, bare hand grasped onto it. Her eyes shot open, facing the open air.

"Are you afraid?" he calmly asked the best he could.

"…" she bit her lip, "You're gonna think me a scared little bitch if I ask you something stupid?" The one time her tom-boyish act falters…

"No."

"…"

"You have my word."

"Is this… gonna hurt me?" she wasn't ignorant in sex-ed; the documentaries secretly terrified her while Angie showed her a… _different view of things_. She knew for the entirety of it, women would scream in pain before rolling their head back. Taking a bullet, a musket, a knife, a bayonet, a cannonball—sure, but this seemed too much. Connor softly huffed and lowered himself in order to take her lips again. As he broke the contact, he spoke into her ear.

"I will never bring you pain," her heart pounded at her chest like a nail, "Unless you want me to." And she felt the buttons of her jacket slowly become undone. The air brushed at her bare midriff, teasing her nerves as the young man pulled out her cravat and Brotherhood pin, kissing at her chest as he did. The rest of her top and jacket was pulled and thrown to the side, but the chill of the air caught her off guard. Not the air itself that touched her skin—the assassin. He took a moment to breathe; sitting up to marvel at the bare torso below him. She was well-toned and smaller than she was than when he met her years ago. Not that he would care less. He took pleasure in the fact that she was thicker than any of the girls he knew in his tribe or the colonies combined. His thoughts drifted as he undid and discard his top clothing, looking to the observer's eyes with an unwavering lust. Inhaling sharply, he repositioned himself for her legs to wrap around his waist, losing himself to the hot caverns of her mouth as her arms wrapped around his neck with a vengeance.

Tsipporah had every intention allowing him to explore her if he pleased to right then and there. The look he gave her before pressing against her made the virtue between her thighs radiate like the sun, beckoning him to ravish her already. He moved down, biting at her neck hungrily as his hand moved to her skort, slipping past underneath to have a feel for her. A hand fell from his neck, loosening the rest of her bottom clothing that they would be easily removed; the other was yanking and heaving at his scalp. Soon, his fingers felt at a small bud and curiously rubbed it. The novice instantly jerked her hips upward and widened her legs in surrender while he sought to venture deeper. Her back arched to him as two of his merciless fingers curled inside at last, pulling and pushing her compacted center.

It was too tantalizing to ignore. Such light rocking would be no big deal to her blonde friend, but tormented the novice so. She was so nervous and afraid of this experience as she heard about it—nearly being nude and being painfully filled with ecstasy, but this was an unexpected outcome. Insistent stroking threw her head back in a silent scream followed by restless whimpers to the winds. Every nerve on her body came alive when the light rush picked up speed. Her milky center was tenderized enough for her being was starting to build up something inside, but just as she drowned in the glorious tension—he retrieved his palm, pulling off her bottoms in the process. She was completely vulnerable now and Connor was enjoying every second of it, and was about to enjoy it even more.

"W-Why did you s-stop…?" she peeked up through her lashes. The young man begged to differ. He was nowhere near getting rough with her. She must be that tight, then, or so Angie predicted she would be.

"I didn't," he stood up on his knees to unfasten his trousers, "I've barely begun."

His nether regions were throbbing for some time and his impatience was only soften by her exceptional writhing and intimate cries. She used the last of her rebelling strength to sit up as her boss was prepared to plunge himself in her, reaching out to him. Instinctively, he stopped what he was doing and grabbed her wrist.

"What are you doing?" he eyed her suspiciously, preferring that stayed down.

"You'll see…" she hummed ominously and he released her, and his own trousers. That's what she waited for. _Now it was her turn to dominate him_. Her hand captured him inch by inch, stroking in suspense as revenge. It was as if all of his senses were being unlocked to be heightened. Connor took the young woman by the shoulders, but couldn't push her away. Whatever she was doing, he was starting to like it… too much. He wished to savor this sensual feel for when they were—

"Connor?" she kissed up and down his abdomen, stroking him faster.

"What?" He sucked his teeth. "I take it back," she looked in his eyes, "My dick isn't bigger than yours."

She backed away and got on all fours, enough to see her entire back to her rear. As she neared to him once more, he took notice of her elaborate tattoo that covered her whole spine: the mark of the Creed, an eagle coming forth, and its detailed illusion that it was to come forth. A sudden hot, moist suction down under broke his trance. The exposed maiden caught his manhood into her mouth, devouring him whole to his surprise. Unable to break away, he took her by her hairs, tugging at her scalp—not enough that it would cause her pain. The novice grunted as she continued to take him further, feeling her essence trickle down her inner thigh as her giver groaned for more. Just as she had gotten rougher, he felt on the verge of a release—then she stopped and slipped away, grinning like a fool. He didn't like that. _He didn't like that at all and she knew it._ She licked her lips of the bits of saltiness that entered as she admired her work.

"I think we're done here," she said more out of fear for intercourse.

"No we're not," his hands were still clutching at her messy curls.

Yeah, she couldn't get away, but fleeing didn't coincide with the fear of her higher peers—just the pain itself. It wasn't just the battles she chose to avoid in the past. Connor did promise there would be no pain, but it was sure as hell inevitable. Their innocence was broken sufficiently wasn't it? Her doubts started to sink in, so she closed her eyes. A second later, the death grip on her head lightened and her back was flipped onto the grass again. The impact alone brought her to her senses and watched as her lover took all of his trousers off along with his buck-skin boots, tossing them aside. Time itself seem to freeze as she waited for him to come down on her once more. She tapped her fingers together, wondering what held him up.

"Prepare yourself," was all she heard and suddenly her legs around his waistline. Tsipporah pressed her hands to his shoulders to prepare for the worst. Her breath became raspy as she felt moist, hardened flesh prod her entrance and buried her face at his neck, anxious. Whimpering sounded from the novice as his flesh yearned to be one with hers, determined to venture her untamed chasm. Then it finally began. A burning tear in her signaled her nails to press at the other's skin and her teeth to bite down after. There were no words for this searing mesh of pain forcing the walls in her to rip like paper. The rest of his length slipped in by the aid of her inner creamy substance while aiming to pull forward and push back in. Connor recalled of his promise to not plunge her as he longed to, but such was difficult. His nerves were fiercely tempted to thrust deeper… rougher. To hear her call out his name the harder he came—

"(Just do it…)," she gasped, her body tensing as they still were adjusting to this weird sensation. Tears streamed down her face, but so did stars and flashes of light that the other could not see. He obliged to her request and kept to his, rising on his forearms. With uneven breaths, the thrusts intensified with a stirring roughness. The whole movement fell to rhythm as the walls of her seep inviting warmth that urged the assassin to go even faster, muttering in Mohawk speak as he went. His muscles rippling each time he pleasured her back and forth. Everything completely shattered in time and space under her and nothing was focused. All the novice could muster from the present was the sensuous thrusting her pelvis was receiving with the other being her own and her giver's gasps for more. She screamed his name as she threw her head back in ecstasy, earning her a change in position and the assassin taking her supple bodice from behind without mercy. What started as uncertain pain quickly turned to a blithe intoxication between the two. She thought she had imagined it—that he vividly said to her face, "I love you" in his native tongue. The musing was reeled back into reality as her chasm clenched itself around the other thick length of flesh. Her essence surged soothingly with such fluidity that Connor had stopped all motion to acknowledge it. Tsipporah's legs were locked in a spasm when she felt herself come, her body shuddering against him pleasantly before rolling onto the ground.

"_Ah_… Oh God, I can see the universe…" she choked on her own satisfied breath.

"…" he wrinkled his face and gripped the grass. The novice looked to the side, unsure what was going on.

"Connor? Are you okay?" she stretched her hand back to reach him, but a sudden jerk pushed her into the ground.

At first, her eyes bulged in confusion, unsure of what this secondary pulse was until she heard an exhale. A minute later, she felt her rear being pushed forward and limp flesh pulling out. Ok… she scrambled to sit down and look behind, seeing that her lover was taking something off of him. Once it was in his hand for the world to see, the novice bit her thumb in need of laughing. So he did come; just in the most unorthodox kind of way.

"Is that… a condom?" and a latex one at that. There's only one person who would have something like that everywhere they went."You got that from Angie, didn't you?"

"She said it was for protection and that it can only be used once, so use it wisely."

"And you… used it with me…"

"As I told you before, I will never bring you pain or misery. However, if there was a first for anything, then it should be with you."

All the blood rushed to her face along with watered eyes and hiccuping. She didn't really know why she was crying this time, but she was so happy. Her eyes felt heavy, too, wondering what time of the night it was. Standing up to gather her clothes and sleep in her own bed was out of the question. Her legs were still out of stamina from their little escapade and fell backwards.

"It would be best if we just rest here," he caught her before she hit the ground, "You look exhausted. Sleep is good for the body."

"Well… that and '_When you lay with a Mohawk, guarantee you won't walk_'."

And he laughed. It almost seemed strange to hear him do so. He truly looked pretty happy just being out here in the open. Now that she recalled, their first night together was like this—without the bestial sex and good relationship. Tsipporah slowly joined his share of bliss, pulling him down to lay near her. This is the part of the forest where not many animals pass by. Oddly enough, one could not hear what is happening from this side. The young man could not figure out why, but it was so—that's why he brought her here. The whole issue of his mission and honesty had gotten his ally riled up. A spar was his original plan, but the blonde had to him otherwise, saying that the fighting must stop for several reasons and one of them being the novice falling deeply in love with him. He had thought about rejecting the idea of accepting the girl into his arms, knowing he have strong feelings for her as well. Confessing now would follow a dangerous road, but he could not deceive her or himself. He wanted her to be his and now she is.

"I wish for you to know that I enjoyed this moment of the night with you."

"And I want you to know that I feel the same way—and why Angie likes to fuck men so much. I mean, I just felt so much pound-town that I literally saw stars—"Okay, that was enough; she didn't have to tell him what he already felt. Romantic pillow talk obviously wasn't her thing. Connor stretched out and took his long-coat of his attire, covering the novice in it. She squealed at the thought of wearing her boyfriend's jacket. He smiled as they both laid into the ground, cuddling, never wanting to forget this night for the rest of their lives. She whispered as she drifted into sleep, their foreheads meeting:

"_I have died everyday waiting for you. Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years. I've loved you for a thousand more_…"

...

"Where have you two been?" the old man waited in the sitting room early in the morning and saw the two youths waltz in like there wasn't a problem. The two exchanged a guilty look to each other before scratching at their necks, nervously. Their clothes on their backs were messily put on; their buttons uneven and their hair disheveled. They had to make up an excuse.

"Hunting.""Sparring."

"Well, which is it?" Achilles was impatient.

"Fishing.""Walking."

The novice bit the inside of her cheek. He was so gonna kick their ass. The old man rose from his seat, walking over to them… and hitting them both in the head.

"Both of you are reckless and rather slow. Do you not think the whole residential area heard of what you both shouted from the rooftops? It doesn't take much to find out what you were up to last night."

Well, the cat's out of the bag and it looks like they can't spoon in the room now. Connor kept his cool, holding the other's hand as his chin was held high as if the old man was lying. The novice on the other hand had no reason to lie. This was the warring times. What did he expect; celibacy within the faction? Before she could say anything, the young man gripped her shoulder and gestured her to go upstairs, she nodded and complied. Looking back at Achilles, the old man was shaking his head. First his student wanted to spread the Brotherhood's conspiracies and now he gets too involved with his observer. Foolish boy.

"Please tell you realize what you've done," he couldn't wait to hear this story.

"It is as you assume, old man," his eyes were forward, "I lay with her and confessed one too many things as I did—I can no longer see her as a companion no longer."

"Come now Connor, do you expect her to stay because of that?" his student narrowed his eyes.

"No. Of course not. Which is why I did this—solely because I may never have the chance to again. I've never been at my strongest or at my weakest… until I met her. Understand, old man, as much as you detest the idea of us being together, it's all it will ever be and it cannot be changed."

"Hmph. Women always have a way of complicating things do they not? And in a matter of business, do you still believe that Washington should be told—"

"Yes. He deserves to know. The Templars are now aware that the Brotherhood lives and is now slowly destroying their foundation. He is an obstacle and I aim to defend him."

"That's nice and all, boss," the novice cut in, "but I think we have another problem."

She pointed at the front door and in came Fillan, covered in sweat. He leaned in on his knees, trying to catch his breath and raised his hand out to speak. Connor immediately came to his side.

"Co-Connor… Angie… s-she's…" he tried to speak, but his breath faltered.

"What? What is it, Fillan? Has something happened to her?" The novice came down the stairs.

"The Templars! They have her! They have Angie!" he said in one breath. The two looked at each other and felt a panic rise in their chest. Now that she recalled, she never saw her blonde companion past the early morning of the day before. She bit her nails at the thought that she was being tortured or worse as she was when she was in the hands of Charles Lee.

"Any idea where they might be?" Connor pressed.

"My sister might. She flirts with the guards all the time. If anyone should know, it's her."

"Then we shall pursue her."

* * *

Once the three left Homestead, they didn't return for weeks. Gillan alone was hard to search for until it turned into winter. December approached and still they had nothing. Tsipporah started to fret almost every day that it may have been her fault for ignoring her companion while she argued and bickered over conspiracies. There was much to regret in her position and more since her powers suddenly locked itself in her body. When she killed, she could not activate a Passage Field or slow down time, resulting in less time for interrogation. Connor saw no fault or need of it, since all the desired right now was the rescue of a fellow ally.

"Gillan!" Fillan saw his sister busying herself with the company of British soldiers and even kissing one of them until she turned on the calling of her name, grinning coquettishly. She gave a pat on the soldier's chest before walking up to the group.

"Hey, little brother. What brings you to Boston this fine day?"

"Angie is missing. We suspect the Templars are behind this."

"Oh…" Gillan dramatically gasped, "that's horrible. I did hear from the redcoats that they caught some blonde girl. They won't say any more than that." Connor and Tsipporah looked at each other and nodded.

"Let's not talk out here," the hooded man suggested, "Let's go somewhere private."

The group went down the road, passing through several alleyways until they reached an abandoned shed—the one they found the French Queen hiding in for the rendezvous. Along the way in, the assassin kept his hands at side while his partner had her hand on his shoulder. Once Gillan stepped in first, Fillan was pushed to the farthest corner. The white-haired novice tripped the red-head, knocked her head with the handle of her elbow-blade, and her stumbling gave the hooded assassin all the time he needed to straddle her to the ground. The seductress' fiery curls were entwined with blood streaming down to her ears. Her younger sibling rose from the corner he was forced in and demanded to know what the hell they were up to.

"She's a terrible liar," the novice hissed, "I saw that look on her face. I know acting when I see it. I went to an arts school, so do you think I didn't notice? What a two-timing whore."

And she wanted to step on her face in her madness. If she hadn't been so caught up with the war, her friend wouldn't be at the mercy of scum like this girl. She let it happen again. She allowed her friend to disappear once she got caught up in her work. The young man straddling the perpetrator wrapped his hand around her slender ankle before she could land an aggressive blow.

"Connor…" she struggled, "This stupid dog of a woman practically sold my friend under my nose!"

"But still a woman, Tsipporah."

"Then she's working with the Templars…" Fillan gritted his teeth, "Sorry 'bout this, folks. I… I didn't know. And now my love's in the hands of mad men…"

So Angie wasn't kidding. Fillan and she loved each other. The look on his face said it all. His eyes were riddled with emotion—fury, hatred, worry, passion… He would shed blood for her sake. The novice bit her lip and her mind slipped back to the first night she spent with Connor out in the woods. No one heard them. No one disturbed them. It was just them and the quietness of nature. Her first time seemed ideal, but Angie's… Angie's did not and couldn't speak of it to anyone ever. Such tragedy led her depression, then recoil, then self-abuse, then suicidal thoughts… all while the other worked, bent on succeeding herself. That was then she realized how self-absorbed she was…

"I'll go get a chair and some rope," Connor exited, "Do not let her leave this place."

...

Gillan woke and felt her chest pressed up against something hard. When she deemed herself to stretch, her hands wouldn't come apart and neither would her ankles… or her mouth could produce some words. Great. She was tied and bound to an old wooden chair and whoever tied these knots must be a navy officer. She raced through her memory of before she was knocked out. Once all of it registered, she looked up and saw her "boss" search her face menacingly along with his observer, both holding dual pistols. Fillan came out from the side and pulled off the cloth at her mouth and she spat out the gag. The assassin immediately pointed his pistol to her cheek, shoving the metal on her abrasively.

"Make a noise and you die," he warned and his novice did the same.

"What's this about, boss? If you wanted a little something from me all you have to do is say the word," she purred which did the opposite and earned her a back slap in the face from the young woman.

"We'll be asking the questions, bitch. Where's Angie? Emily-Angelican Burke? Remember? Brothers in arms? Gave you something new every birthday you had since we came here?"

"You think that's supposed to mean something to me?" she scoffed, "The Templars promised more. They always promised more. When they first came, my parents heard of their plans for the colonies and tried to warn the Brotherhood, but let's be frank. Fighting a group of realists is suicide. They had more money anyway, so I did them a favor and killed my parents for them." Fillan fumed and brandished his knife too close for her liking. "What? Why are you so surprised, bro? Do you really believe that the Templars themselves would waste themselves trying to find simpletons? I've been in the Order for years and would never betray them. Your little whore? Of course she's with them. She has much knowledge of the future they want to squeeze out of her. You want to find them, right?"

"We have no time for games," Connor cocked his gun, "You will tell us where they are keeping her lest the last thing you will hear is your own breath drowned in bloody cries."

"Maybe if we discuss this over a smoke a luscious grinding, I'll tell you some—AGH!" the novice picked up the chair from its legs and hung it upside down. Like hell, she'll let her talk shit and try to seduce her boss. She swayed the chair violently and threatened to pile drive her if this meaningless babble continued.

"Bitch, you better tell me where my friend is or I'll make you regret ever meeting me! Do you know who I am?!"

"Ugh… _Connor's whore_?" she weakly chuckled.

"The one who's gonna rip out your uterus if you keep fucking with me! I will beat you til—"

"Tsipporah…" the native raised his palm, "This is not the way." She complied and slammed the chair topside, whiplashing the victim. The order was followed: she had to make this as humane as possible; whatever 'humane' was in her boss' dictionary. Her fingers straightened and she dropped her weapons for there was no need. She waited as the air stilled around her and—_SLICE_ at the victim's collarbone space with a single finger nail. At first nothing happened and Gillan chucked a laugh, seeing how this was failing so badly. Her skin didn't even break and no blood or bruise was evident. The woman's grin persisted until she felt a burning in her chest that tore through her flesh and inflated the muscle under her skin. Slowly but surely, her flesh around her neck turned pink and red, and crept onto her face.

"What are you doing to me?!" she scrambled in her seat.

"Interesting what she learns in her time, is it not? She spoke of a secret technique where the opponent is hit on a their most vital nerve and with enough impact, it can cause a slow yet massive internal bleeding as it is close to the blood vessels leading to the heart. Only I can stop it if I give the order, but you have to give us some information in exchange."

"You wouldn't let me die in such a horrible way…"

"You are indeed right, but she would and I cannot undo this," he gave her an apathetic smile, "By the looks of this, you have ten minutes before the pain truly comes in. Gillan? Where is Angie?"

It was horrible. She underestimated her own 'teammates'. Her boss would let her be killed this way for information? Looks like the apple does not fall too far from the tree. The blood escaping her barely broke through her skin. Instead, she felt the back of her eyes gushing with searing pain and something trying to get out. She writhed and choked. The three guys just stood and waited if she was going to say anything at all. They knew she had the energy left to speak.

"Eleanor Mallow!" she rasped, "Eleanor Mallow has her! The only way to get to her is through the Grand Master, Haytham Kenway! They keep her below his base! Please, that's all I know!" blood started to gush from her mouth and spill onto her chest as well as her eyes leaking the warm liquid. The young man looked to the novice, gesturing her to save her from her misery. She stood and punched a few pressure points, stopping the blood from flowing so that the internal injury could heal.

"Take a bath in warm water for a while and the swelling will go down. Mess with my friend again and you'll find that seducing guards will not be as affective for an ugly woman."

Connor dropped Gillan's blade beside her and cued the two to follow him outside. Now they had a lead to find her. Looks like Charles Lee had no direct involvement, but that didn't make anything any better. By the strands of logic, they probably took Angie in exchange for her. They'd be killing two birds with one stone by disposing of her assassin and taking her by force. She can't let that happen, but Connor was a bit over the top when it came to protecting his friends. He'd do anything to make sure their lives were better and comfortable. If they needed a turkey for dinner he'd travel all the way to New York, chase it down from the rooftops and risk losing an eye. If she ran out of acrylics, he would search the highest reaches of the cliff in order to find rare pigments. His dedication was too ridiculous. It's a surprise that he hasn't gotten a medal for his hardcore acts of random kindness. Looking back on it from a psychologist's logical viewpoint, he said he'd failed at protecting his mother from burning alive; saying he wasn't strong enough then. Well, weren't they all so meager in the past? She was selfish, her friend was horny, and he was in over his band of misfits, they were.

* * *

"Agh! She could be anywhere with Haytham!" she circled around the basement as Connor looked upon the wall with the painted face of his enemies. True, Angie could be anywhere. They barely even know where their home base was, but feared that they knew of theirs. The thought of the snarky blonde being used as an object of power for the Templars threw her in a fit, but the assassin didn't fear. He knew the girl to be clever and brave. She was not so afraid of the greed of men. They were trained to withstand such tyranny should it fall on them. He told his partner many times today to keep calm. She continued to pace the room, overwhelmed with might be in store for her dear friend since elementary school. Her boss finally took her by the shoulders, demanding that she'd sit down. She gave him a death glare before complying.

"I don't even wanna think about what they would do to her. Tree-hug—_AH_!" the muscles between her head were suddenly tensing even more than they were before, but were now being rubbed into. The spur of the moment took her back her first time and she spoke out against reality. "C-Connor… What are you doing?" she took him by the wrists, aroused by his touch.

"Releasing the knots. You cannot continue this mission in such bad shape."

"Right… but I'm not stressed out enough to sleep with you again, either."

"I am not trying to coax you into doing such things. I've told you before."

"Alright. Say what you want, but I know you've been dying to try it again. Stop lying to yourself." She shooed his hold on her and turned to face him.

"That is the last thing I would ever do in this world. To lie and to cheat would never come to pass. You know this. My mercy has limits and all who torment the innocent can never speak of it for they are dead in the blood of the snow to do so. I will not be defeated so easi—"his face was brought down to her level with her lips brushing against his before suckling his bottom lip hungrily. This childish fussing had to stop. He had argued with Achilles and her about the exploit of information and even more so for coming together with her. Now he wants to set himself on thin ice—if it saves everyone the trouble and protects those who cannot fight then he would do so without a second thought. His novice wasn't too keen on letting him run into battle head-on with a helmet and a flashy banner, yet here she is taking all his being into her. The plumpness of her lips brushed his invitingly, beckoning to receive.

"We can't do it here…" he whispered, "the old man—"

"I said I wasn't going to go further right now, but… you're right; we should stop."

"That's not what I said." He pressed his lips back into hers to explore more of her, slipping his tongue in thoroughly as his hands slid down to her hips; pulling them towards his own. The moaning strengthened in sound as her hand clawed at his neck and was soon backed into a wall, wanting to take all of her. The white creamy center of her groin pleaded to be ravished again, its surrounding muscles giving into the temptation and slightly widened itself to be void of all resistance. Connor accepted the invitation, feeling at her hips, midriff, to tug at her skort for his hand to plunge into her tender flesh…

"This room is for sparring. Not for your private activities."

**"AAH!" "Old man!"**

"Now wash your hands. I do not think I want to know what else you've been up while I was gone." The two nodded, breaking up their little fun. They ran up the stairs and went outside to where the mill was to do as their elder commanded. The winter air sent a chill all around them. The temperature had never occurred to them until they stepped outside with little satisfaction. The abrupt interruption had their sets of passion spiraling down into frustration. Perhaps the opportunity more well-suited will appear again someday. Once at the mill, the youths knelt at the edge, scooping up water and rubbing their hands together.

"Well, that's one way to break up the fun," she mumbled.

"It was of little consequence. Nevertheless, if I were to lose myself to someone, it would be you."

"Does that make me your woman now?"

"By my choice. Yes, but courting you is an issue to save for later. We must look for your friend and see that Washington remains safe. The Templars are not so rash into killing the observers. They are vital to their cause." He turned to see her eyes, "The Eyes seem like nothing more than objects rather than humans. I cannot fathom why such men would think this way. It is wrong." He wanted to lean in and give her the touch of his wanting of her, but not out here where the residents could see. She smiled back.

"I'll be sad to leave this all behind, but… I will never forget you, the difference you've made, and the change you've made in me." Then they gripped each other's forearms, not in love, but respect for each other in the name of Brotherhood. They would waste no time here. There were things to do and planned for nothing to stop them.

* * *

**Next we meet Daddy Doomsday himself! Happy New Years to my readers and followers out there! :D**

**Thanks for waiting patiently for this release... haha. Well, thanks for waiting anyway. I sort of had too much fun trying to word out this chapter, so please don't kill me! D:**

**Anyway, have a list of New Years resolutions with one of them not keeping you in suspense and waiting in your fangirl-ness. You shall hear more of the story in a couple of days when the fireworks in my neighbors' yards stop threatening to blow my ears out. I'll keep you posted people!**


	20. Chapter 20: Opprobrium

_"An honest man nearly always thinks justly."_

**Tryon Edwards**

* * *

For months on end, Angie sat and meditated in her dark, dank cell. She barely knew where she was, but her senses told her that it held many, many guards. No harm was brought on her or anything. It was as if the Templars were waiting on something and she was used for bait. No doubt they would have the assassin killed and her friend taken. She is an observer and observers are capable of finding anything linking to the First Civilization—that goes for the Pieces of Eden as well. The only one of them able to collect data was Artemis, but according to Juno, something has cut her off. There were two of many things that can ultimately break the link between the Civilization—death or loss of purity. Knowing of her friend's stubbornness to die, it could only be the latter. She's been hinting into her to lean towards it. She's been feisty for the past few years they've stayed in the 18th century. Her closeness to Connor has somewhat evolved and wanted to know if they would take it to another level. It always failed, ending with them arguing, but she had a good feeling. The blonde closed her eyes and bowed her head to trace stray data until everything dissipated around her…_0000022100101022203120300100 0123103340452304200000 3423424234234343438483223000 000000010020010020000_….

"Greetings, observer," the white figure gazed upon the mortal girl with a satisfied smile upon her face, "You have been returning to the nexus more than once this month. I am aware of your troubles. The guardian will soon come to your aid."

"Thank God," she shook her head, "I don't think I can take staying in this cell. I haven't been tortured yet. Why is that?"

"You are not the one they sought to claim, Aphrodite. You are merely a decoy. They aim to seek out and destroy any remaining targets. The guardian will be in much peril should his observer continue. A negative progress will manifest should she not find a way to contact me. Their recent activities have slowly begun to lock her seventh sense. Her Passage Field cannot be produced by her own hands now." Angie didn't know whether to smile or be worried. All recorded kills of the Templars members are sent to the First Civilzation through the Passage Field. Crucial conversations and actions within are not just sent to the Those Who Came Before, but they are kept in storage for the descendants in the Assassin's lineage. There was a later disaster to prevent and these pieces of the puzzle needed to be preserved carefully—something they were beginning to be unsuccessful at. The blonde bit her lip, knowing what should be done.

"With all due respect, Mother Juno, Artemis is loyal to a fault and is most likely finding a way to reach her seventh sense with the aid of the assassin."

"In the mean time, you must be removed from this place. Nothing good will come if this, should you remain here. The sanctuary will be in danger and the entire village that sits on sacred ground will be destroyed."

"I will contact the best I can." She hoped she could. Loss of maidenhood caused a lot of chaos and miscommunication. If Tsipporah couldn't summon a Passage Field, then they'll either be sent back to their own time or they'll be forced to erase their assassin.

* * *

"(My dear friends)!" Kateri ran up to the gang that approached the village. The white-haired novice shriveled up as the native woman wrapped her strong arms around her. Fillan had come as well, but left the communication all up to the other two.

"(Yeah… nice to see you, too.)"

"(Is something the matter, Tsipporah?)"

"(Angie is missing)," Kateri shrieked and the novice shook her down, "(Calm down, we know where she is.)" It's been months since the spirited native woman last came to Homestead or any other place outside Mohawk Valley for that matter. She often wondered how much she missed since she gave birth. It saddened her that her beloved cousin and her new friends couldn't be there by her side when she bore her triplets. She scratched at her silky locks and looked to the hooded assassin with question.

"(Why have you come back? Surely, not to visit as I hoped you would.)" She pouted. Her guess was no farther than the truth. They needed to visit Clan Mother to use the mystical crystal ball in order to contact Juno of the First Civilization. They could explain this, but it was a private matter. Tsipporah, on the other hand, thought there would be no need for the secrecy.

"(I lost my seventh sense—the sense needed to contact the spirits. The only way I can contact Those Who Came Before Us is to use—)" Connor jabbed her side with his elbow. One of the things that peeved him about his observer is that she's gotten too honest over time with his people. There should be a limit to how much she should reveal.

"(Please, Kateri, we need to see Clan Mother immediately.)" He pressed. She simply nodded and turned on her heel to take them to one longhouse where, inside, her mother and their grandmother were speaking to each other. Upon hearing their footsteps, the two elder women looked to the youths' direction, smiling instantly.

"(Welcome)," Clan Mother said, "(I see you have brought a new face to the village.)" she pointed to the blonde-haired man that came as well. The novice took the pleasure of translating for him and they all sat down near the fire together. For some minutes, the elder women kept their eyes between Connor and Tsipporah—especially her hair and bit at their nails. It sort of made her nervous of what they had to say, but onward to business.

"(We need the crystal ball to see Juno, Clan Mother)," the young woman blurted. She suddenly chuckled at the statement, knowing why it was needed so urgently. She took out the wooden box she had shown them before in the beginning and pressed her fingers on the lid.

"(There is no need to explain why. You hair is now stained by the eagle—marking you free of your captivity.)"

"(Wait… captivity of what, Clan Mother?)" Connor wrinkled his face.

"(The earth, of course. She has been blessed by another's strength for your sake. It must be Ziio's doing.)" The novice swayed in her seat.

"(But do you think I'll be able to get my powers back?)"

"(Depends. Can one reclaim their innocence?)" She raised a brow and the two youths looked away, "(This old woman hasn't gotten senile yet. I knew what was bound to happen between you two. Rebelling as always, Ratonhnhaké ton. I said you were in mourning of your mother and all of a sudden this girl appears.)" She opened the lid and held the crystal ball in her hand, "(Now I wonder if she has become just as important as your own people.)" The Piece of Eden was dropped into his hands and the entire space began to change in a fluctuation of light. Soon, two familiar figures appeared before them, standing in wait. The novice beamed once she saw who it was.

"Angie, baby! Oh my God!" she welled up, but it was too soon to be in a celebratory mood. The blonde raised her hand, halting her friend from hugging and swinging her around. "What's wrong?" her smile cracked, unsure. Angie pointed to Connor to come closer to hear her and Fillan itched to reach for her again.

"Connie, babe? We need to talk." She crossed her arms, "Just so you know, and Sipsy knows this, too—the people from before don't work like the Earthly people do. In fact, our rules are pretty orange and blue, not black and white, or grey. So, because I'm Aphrodite by nature, I can lose my purity, but she can't. She's Artemis—Eyes of the hunter, the mother, and…"

"Maidenhood…" the novice curled a lock around her finger, aware that she was in big trouble. Maybe they should've stuck to looking for Angie without having to take the route of the nexus. "Cut it, would you, babe? I… I love him. That doesn't count, does it?"

"Our world has different rules, Artemis," Juno interrupted, "Whatever excuse you have for losing your purity falls on the human who took it. They must pay whoever they are, I'm afraid." The two of the Brotherhood looked at each other and prepared themselves. "Either you must face the consequences or _he_ must be erased." Everyone but Connor gasped in shock. The girls had a minor heart-attack as if they've heard this penalty for the first time. The way the woman in aglow in white spoke of it was in no manner of warning—she was to do it. She warned them that she would should they fall down the wrong road. From the very beginning, she said gaining something deeper than friendship with the guardian would result into something they cannot undo. It was going happen, wasn't it? _No_. This can't happen. He didn't do anything wrong. He didn't deserve this…

"Juno, wait!" the novice called out, but Connor took her arm.

"There is no need to act in my defense," he turned to the white spirit, "We only wish to restore her powers and free her friend, but I only request this—that I shall be dealt with once all the Templars are dead, _she_ returns to her time unharmed, and that my people among others remain safe." Tsipporah really wanted to kick him. What was he thinking making deals with a nexus spirit? She wanted to cry, but doing so in the plane was impossible. Angie took a breath in and Fillan went to her side, not sure of what was going to happen next. Was it the last of their boss they were going to see? Juno closed her eyes eerily in thought of what was to be done. Eliminating a thriving race of Assassins was a rather risky path. Those of the Civilization still had use for the guardian to protect the sanctuary for all time. There had to be something else… _a slap on the wrist_?

"I will allow you to continue your journey to protect your people as well as the sanctuary and bring no harm to you, guardian. However, this will be so if you take back from our enemies the amulet."

"Consider it done."

"As for our beloved Eyes, she'll have to face punishment—"the assassin stood between Juno and the novice, "She will be set under a curse. If being one flesh is a desire both of you share, then so be it. If one of your bodies perishes, then both will share the same fate. Your pain shall be the pain of the other. Consider it a punishment to you both. Now save Aphrodite before it is too late." The nexus began to melt into reality, but not without the blonde shouting to where they could find her. Her lover nodded upon heeding her directions and they finally reappeared before Clan Mother and Aghanashimi once more. Her expression was very neutral—waiting for what the group had to say about finding their friend.

"(So what did you find out, children?)"

"(We have found out where our comrade is being held. We must leave at once.)" Connor bowed his head before turning to the entrance of the house. The others stiffened before leaving behind him.

"(Young woman… come here)," Clan Mother called for the novice and she complied, "(You may already know this, but Ratonhnhaké ton can be reckless and restless at times.)"

"(Well, that's news to me…)"

"(He takes responsibility no matter how big or small the issue is)," Aghanashimi added. The young woman snorted when she said 'big or small the issue'.

"(It's fine, ladies, really.)" She raised her arms in defense.

"(No it is not. He didn't even tell us about this, but why should I expect him to tell me right away when to expect my first grandchild?)" Clan Mother stomped her cane in the ground with frustration and called for her grandson to come back. The dragon-lady stood beside her with her arms crossed, eying the white-haired girl. They didn't even get married yet and they went ahead with the early courting. These youths these days are worse than her and her sister back in the day. Clan Mother shook her head. For some reason, her descendants were so bent on multiplying before marriage. What's up with that, huh?

Tsipporah was still trying to figure out whether to laugh or cry, or maybe both. Guess they've never heard of a condom before. They assumed that she and Connor went ahead and courted, expecting a child on the way. _Sounds nice, but… no_. In the back of the house, she could here both of the boys coming back in this direction. The novice could barely keep her poise with all these assumptions, so she had to say it first for Fillan to know about it.

"Connor's grandma thinks I'm pregnant," she blurted and both men froze. There was a sudden burst of laughter behind them as well. She didn't see them before, but apparently Kateri and Kanen'tó kon had come along. They seemed more overjoyed then surprised.

"No! No!" she gripped their shoulders, "We're not making babies, you idiots! This ain't a black n' tan cocktail!" and they immediately stopped, lowering their heads in disappointment. Kateri adjusted her son in her arms as the other two were carried on her back.

"(That is saddening to hear, my friends…)" their native friend spoke as if someone died, "(And here I thought you were officially part of the family.)" That sounded flattering and all, but she wasn't as reckless as her blonde friend. Connor face-palmed throughout; no one could tell if he was embarrassed or not.

"(We should be on our way, Tsipporah)," he took her hand, "(I shall come back another time.)" He brought her beside him, muttering how they should keep that sort of business to themselves and she retorted in a hiss that she didn't say anything. Kateri got in their way again, keeping them hostage.

"(You will not fight me as I hold my children in my arms, cousin. At least tell us the truth—did you two…?)"

"(Yes. We made love and I took pleasure in every minute of it. Now can you let us save our friend, Kateri?)" Connor sighed and his cousin got out of the way. When they exited the village, they all ventured towards Homestead in use of the Aquilla. Their target was somewhere around the Virginian coast and Angie was held up in the brig. According to their previous sources, she'd be held captive by a woman by the name of Eleanor Mallow—a member of the Templar Order. She closely follows Haytham Kenway. Maybe they won't run into Lee this time around, maybe they will. Aboard the ship, the residents watched and waited before they could wish them a farewell.

….

Once the preparations were set, the captain jumped onto the railing of the ship and his partner followed as well as his first mate with other crew members who let loose the ropes. The residents waved goodbye as the ship was starting to lean into open waters. The captain already stood at the steering wheel and commanded for a half sail until they were further out. The crew members scurried around and the gunmen watched from the ropes for enemy ships. It was nice to have the scent of the sea spraying the air around them again. It has been too long. The novice sighed as the waves from the water crashed and rocked the ship, dragging it out farther. Her mind was somewhere else, though. She kept biting her cheek at the thought that she and Connor were going to have kids. Nope. Nope. Nope. Once was enough. Besides, as if Angie had any more latex… _did she have more_?

"Shouldn't you be on the lookout?" the captain asked, noticing the comrade to be a bit out of sorts. Being in the air usually excited her. She'd be talking about ludicrous things right about now. Surely, she was worried about the curse set on both of them. She turned to him wearing a mischievous smile.

"I still can't believe you admitted to your family members that I had sex with you," she yelled over the ocean's wavering waters and the crewmen stopped and stared for a few seconds before going back to work. The captain curled his lip, peeved. Yeah, she was still acting normal. "I thought you were going to be defensive about it, but I guess I underestimated you, captain."

"_Bring it to full sail_!" he turned the wheel and looked back at the novice, "They asked about it and so I answered honestly."

"Heh heh… I don't think my parents would care that much. They'd be bouncing in their seats—"

"Tsipporah?"he huffed.

"Going back to work, I know…" she went down the stairs and stood by the cannons, waiting for a threat. Normally, things like this would thrill her; set on the edge, but there was an empty feeling in her that she could not fathom. It could be the idea of the curse taking effect. She couldn't blame her friend. Whatever happens in the nexus stays with her the rest of her life. Whatever pain they would feel, they'll share it. The Mayan shaman was right: being together would carry some consequences. She didn't really regret it for some reason. All the sensations they felt that one night may have taken her power, but who's to say she did it carelessly. She did it with someone she loved—it wasn't a moment wasted. Now that she recalled… he was pretty… _big._ Her body shuddered, regaining the memory of how her first time felt. Angie was right; the first time is always memorable. Wonder if the assassin still thought about it. He still looked as stern as usual at the wheel.

* * *

The evening started to fall over the coastline. There was no trouble, save for a few ships of the British. The air was too calm for the crew's liking. Even the gunmen couldn't comprehend as to why there hasn't been any activity rather than the movement of the water. The novice ran to the front of the Aquilla, searching the sky and water as the sun shined on the horizon, sinking into edge. Then she felt it. She felt that something was wrong—_very wrong_. She knew what it was, at first; seems that her seventh sense was given back to her, but also something else new. As soon as the sun completely went out of view, she heard something break. Almost like branch or a stick. No, it sounded louder than that. Suddenly, pain erupted through her entire being. More and more distinct cracking sounded in her ears. It was so unbearable that she found it difficult to scream. All she could do was writhe as her body restructured. The crewmen started to holler with worry and surround her, but it sounded as if there was someone else was sharing the same fate. She already knew who. He would take part in this curse. The men continued to cry out to their revered captain and their Eyes until both fell unconscious.

When light came to her eyes, she blinked quickly and then remembered of her beloved writhing in pain in her sightline before everything faded to black. Tsipporah reached out to grab a hold of something—anything as she got up, but found herself scrambling into the wooden floorboards. Her eyes faced the sky and saw that it was night. She sighed and felt that the pain subsided. It didn't lift her spirits though, so she decided to walk around—her feet felt quite light. Was it just her? Not only that, but everything seemed to have gotten taller. Everything in her was airy and light as a feather… as a feather. She looked down and didn't see her feet—talons?! She wanted to scream, but her screaming came out as squawking instead. _Oh God… was this part of the curse, too_?! The crewmen finally came about and Faulkner lifted her from the ground easily, but she kept the noise in the air and flapped her wings frantically.

"[Sweet semen of baby Jesus! What the hell happened to me?!]" She flapped around and Faulkner patted her down.

"It's alright, lass! You've just gotten a little change on ya! Seems to me, you changed into an eagle." She stopped and hopped onto his arm, digging her claws in him.

"[I turned into a what?!]"

"Easy now! Both o' ye are lucky you didn't knock on Davy Jones's Locker. The captain started throwing a fit like you did some hours ago, 'cept you shrunk and turned into a… this."

"[No fucking way… this is all part of the curse. I can't believe that bitch Juno didn't tell me about this part. I am going to kick her ass once I turn human… Wait. Will I turn human again? And where's Connor? Where's Connor?!]" She flapped up a storm under her wings and bellowed a terrible screech in his ear. The man obviously didn't know what she was saying and took to her actions instead. She sounded pretty upset, but if he had to guess, she was worried about the captain.

"He passed out like you did, so we put him in his cabin to rest. Must be suffering from internal bleeding, but it ain't serious—"

"[Internal bleeding? No! This is my entire fault… just because we made love all night… it's my fault he's suffering now… Oh, no. I'm so sorry, Connor. _I'm so sorry_.]" She cooed softly and covered her beak with her wing. The first mate thought it to be proper to take her to the captain now that she was awake. The men were afraid of moving her from where she laid due to that fact that all they heard was persistent cracking of bones and blood swishing around. All they could do was make sure she was comfortable. Watching her grow feathers and spike talons was a nightmare. It has got to be the most unholy event they've seen ever to on the open sea. Faulkner walked over with the girl on his arm, disregarding the intense penetration her talons was giving him and showed her into the captain's room.

At first, she was expecting the worst, but… it wasn't. He was lying in his office quarters where the bench was. His jacket was covering him and his tricorne was bowed down, covering his face while his ankle crossed over the other. He was sleeping soundly. It didn't sound like he was in pain at all, but then again; he was trained to withstand anything. She cocked her head forward, curious. Her talons loosened its grip on the man's arm and hopped onto the sleeping captain, walking from his torso to his face.

"[Connor? You really sleeping? I'm sorry this all happened. I didn't know this would happen. Please answer me…]"

"…I suppose Those Who Came Before do have a different way of punishing others…" he grunted under his breath and readjusted himself to sit up, "Though, I must admit—even as a creature of flight—you are still majestic looking." His face was riddled with bruises and his lip had some dry blood at the corner. She cawed softly and poked at his collar that had some dried splatter of red. He stroked her head as he fixed his hat on his head.

"[I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. If I could, I would do over everything so this wouldn't have happened to you…]" Connor suddenly called his first mate to tell the men that he was coming soon and he complied, closing the door behind him. He lifted his arm up for her to latch onto. She sank into her thoughts for a moment before replying to his gesture.

"What we did together, Tsipporah, is something I would never do over only to have it be undone. Do you truly regret lying with me?"

"[What the fuck? What the fuck, man?! You can fucking understand me?! You red-skinned, cocky motherfu—]"she cawed and screeched in his ear.

"It doesn't take one some time to figure out it's you. Your language is still vulgar and your personality is still intact." He slid into a full sitting position and the novice leapt onto the arm of the bench. If she had a mouth, then she'd be frowning right about now. Her sigh came out as a small wheeze.

"[It's really disappointing that this all happened. Now everything that happens between will be nothing but pain. It's just like what the shaman said—she fell in love with Captain Kidd and her being immortal was her punishment and Kidd died in his insanity! Now there's no more time left, Connor! You have to kill the Templars this time around or else… or else I'll just end up hurting you all over again.]" He really wasn't interested in hearing her incessant ranting. She'd always whine and complain about things she can't do until Connor says to do it. Guess she was still a bit bi-polar on some points. She jerked her head out when the captain gave her a death glare. _Seriously_? What now, Gilligan?

"[What?]" She cawed.

"I think I'll deal with this after we save your friend," he stood up and went to the door and almost closed it behind him, "Stay here if you're so worried about hurting me."

"[The fuck, Connor—captain! I'm still on watch! Don't you leave your observer in here!]" He closed the door anyway. There was no need to lock it; she had no opposable thumbs. She rolled on the floor and fussed some more as she heard the men run back and forth with orders at their back. This was hell. No one in her circle of friends—this time and her time—had this kind of trouble after losing their virginity. Maybe their parents' walking in on them, but that was all that happened. _No_, she had to get cursed along with… does he see as a 'girlfriend' still? She was an eagle now and was not too sure how long this was going to last. Hope this all won't end like Swan Lake.

…..

"Captain!" the gunmen yelled, "There are mines in the water!" It was already too dark to see anything save for the few lanterns. The only thing saving them from bumping into the stray mines was Connor's Eagle Vision. The men, even the watcher in the crow's nest, could only depend on the captain now; him and his sixth sense. The Aquilla carefully curved and made some sharp turns trying to move away. Within minutes, there was finally another ship in view that bore the English flag and the gunmen made it known to the crew. They were finally at the Virginian coast and that must be Eleanor's ship—it should be.

"Captain, should we fire on 'em?"His first mate clutched onto the railing.

"Indeed, Mr. Faulkner. Ready the guns." The cannons were posted and the swivel guns were being loaded as the Aquilla neared the enemy vessel. They, too, were aware of the coming fight and shots were immediately fired on them. The whole crew ducked as they went about their business to return fire with a vengeance. The novice in the captain's quarters flapped around the room hearing all the commotion. Trying to leave was impossible. She hopped onto the desk and sighed, contemplating whether to poop on the map or not. She scrunched up her feathers _and_… nope. _Nothing_. Wait until she eats some more meat, then something will happen. Suddenly, she felt the whole ship quake and she stumbled onto the floor. The quake alone flung the door open and rolled her out. Instinctively, she hopped onto her talons a ducked, spreading her wings to thrust herself off the ground. Of course, she wasn't too sure how flying works save for those documentaries she saw on Animal Planet. At least it worked, anyway. She flew to the captain's side now that her vision was improved, but he was more concerned about boarding the ship that possibly held their comrade. The novice squawked to get her boss's attention.

"[Just give the order and I'll distract the enemy crew.]"

"Go forth, but leave Eleanor Mallow to me." She nodded and flew to the bow of the ship before taking off again to the enemy ship. It looks like her seventh sense was still in effect because she changed her vision to infrared and saw bodies walking back and forth to load cannons. She looked harder and saw that her blonde friend was there under the ship. Her beak lifted and she swooped down for the kill—or mauling. The Englishmen didn't expect for an eagle to be this far out in the coast to be ramming into them from the sky. It scared the hell out of them and they scurried back and forth, giving the members of the Aquilla time to recover and retaliate—which they did. Tsipporah flew away as the enemy received damage and her laughter rang in the air before coming down on them again. It was all fun and games until she felt the whipping of musket balls in her direction. She looked down to see a woman in an Englishman's naval uniform.

"You must be the observer," she called out, readying another shot, "Nice of you to fly aboard. Shame your friend will not see you soon." She fired and the novice dodged, then she ordered for all the men to fire upon 'that blasted fowl'.

"[I'm an eagle, you crazy bitch!]" She flapped around and kicked off some tricornes before trying to fly away, but this woman's shots were so precise that some feathers were nearly blown off. She must be Eleanor Mallow. Her smile was devious and menacing; her style of firing her dual pistols were even more so. She could kill the novice in a quick second. Why was she playing around with her? It didn't matter; she had to return to the Aquilla. She turned into the wind and allowed it to carry her back to the ship.

"Miss Mallow? Are you not going to kill her?" a soldier questioned. True, she had a clear shot, but not yet.

"It's too late in the night for bird watching, is it not? She will board. It's the assassin we crave, sir. Watch their ship. We'll have them in no time."

* * *

"[Connor! Eleanor's there and down under in the brig! We need to board, now.]" The captain nodded and ordered for the balls and chain to be fired so that they could board. Their enemy was tenacious, swerving back and forth in the water to evade the worst of the cannon fire. It was frustrating the crew to the point where they picked up scraps in place of cannons. Tsipporah looked around, filled with fret. The air seemed too warm and cocked her head to the sky, sensing something coming. The stars weren't there any longer and the sky was covered in a mist. It came down as a single droplet streaming down her beak that caused her to screech a warning. This was a storm—a pretty bad one at that. The waves started to pick up and rise to the level of the sails. This isn't good. Soon, the single droplets coming down sprayed along the coast, pushing the ships further from the shores that were already a hundred yards away. The crew feared that they would be shoved into the middle of the Atlantic if wanted to pursue the English ship. Captain wasn't afraid of a little water, so he spun the wheel and commanded for full sail. It would've been safer to suggest a half sail and turn tail, but nope. That'd be boring. His crew thought he was mad to allow the ship to be carried on large waves and strong winds threatening to flip the ship on its side. Even the novice couldn't fly about in this weather and wondered what the hell her beloved was thinking. She latched onto the steering wheel and tried to keep her balance.

"[Okay babe, what are you thinking? You're gonna kill us…]"

"Rescuing our comrade."

"[Yes, I can see that. I'm just curious as to how you're gonna—_Agh, fucking hell_!]"

The stormy wave loomed over the Aquilla, rocking the ship towards its imminent doom. Outrunning it was a better consideration, but not this captain. The wave was still building up, so the order was given to tie down the cannons and supplies. The crewmen went to work, some tripped on the slippery, damp wooden floor. When everything was almost tied down the wave came also, sweeping some loose items off. The enemy was still there, but wasn't receiving any light treatment from Mother Nature either. The captain was pleased to know that even the Englishmen were having a hard time. _Perfect_.

"Load the cannons!" _What did he just say_?

"[I give up. I think the curse made you insane, too.]" She shrugged and took off the best she could and lifted some ball and chains from the open crates; strange how she could still lift even these still in this form. Once the gunpowder was added, the men clutched onto anything as the captain made a sharp turn into the cataclysmic rise of the ocean. From the looks of it, it would be inevitable that they would be turned on the side and land disastrously.

"Hold onto to something! On my mark, fire the cannons!"

"[Um… aye, aye.]" What else could she say? These crazy stunts were the ones witnessed on TV and she was going to be a part of it. Sounds fun. The wave picked them up and flailed the Aquilla far into the air that her side was facing the enemy ship from above. In mid-hover, Connor ordered the cannons to be fired. Explosive holes were plunged into the fell enemy and the men aboard were scampering around, all but one. A woman in the redcoats' uniform stood as destruction transpired all around her. She gave a slow clap and reached for a bayonet to load a musket ball into and pointed at the assassin. When the novice saw this, she cawed, alerting the captain—it was no use for Mallow. The musket ball fired was bent out of range magically. She bit her lip as the Aquilla landed safely into the water if one could call it "safely". Abundant waves splashed from its plop into the water, soaking the damaged ship and the heroes cheered, readying to board and conquer.

The Redcoat curled up her lip in frustration and called out more men to deal with those "sniveling pirates". _And where is she going_? The novice came down and pulled at her hair as the crewmen jumped over their railings to red-coat some redcoats.

"Off me, you fowl-fiend!" she tried to take out her dual pistol, but the novice—seeing that her strength was unaffected by the curse—tugged the woman inches off the ground before tossing her into an already loose sail. Her throat hit a post on impact and the novice squawked in laughter.

"Tsipporah," the captain called off her reckless attack.

"[Sorry. I've been waiting to do that for some time, so…]"

"Never mind that, kill the captain and I shall fetch Angie."

"[Don't forget the—what? Ah man…]"

She landed on her beloved's extended arm as she noticed Eleanor gone from the fallen sail. There was an open floor-door and the novice cocked her head to it. The captain sprinted towards it, using his sixth sense as he ventured under. _Right_. The eagle flew upwards in the harsh winds to spot the captain of the ship. Seems the first mate had him cornered, but… he smelled of heavy gunpowder and was holding a lantern. The old man couldn't sense it with all this wind blowing around. _Shit_.

"[No! Faulkner! _Get away from him_!]" She dove in and grabbed the first mate by the collar, begging him to flee…

* * *

He could've sworn he saw two bodies bathed in golden aura when he was topside. There was evidence that the lanterns down here were lit and recently blow out—he could smell it. The captain listened carefully for movement and heard some footsteps ahead of him, shuffling to the side. Whispering… Someone was there. They must have known him to be present for they banged on iron bars to get his attention. There was one golden-marked target. It had to be none other than the blonde.

"Connor, thank God," she huffed and gripped the bars, "You gotta leave. That Redcoat is a crazy bitch."

"I have to eliminate her," he finally reached her, "Does she have the cell key?"

"Hell yeah, captain…" she trailed off, "She's um, right behind you, babe."

There was no need for warning, he heard metal ringing from his side and blocked with his hidden blade. He pushed her off with his own weight, sending her into the wall. Her laugh echoed the halls.

"Fancy meeting you here, assassin. I thought us both to be blind in the dark, but such was not the case." She lit a match and then the lantern near her, "You are an insufferable fool coming down here. Maybe it's time you come to your senses and forget this whole war—supporting the colonists and such. Even your novice is still uncertain of what she should be doing with her powers, hm?"She waved her rapier around, "Besides, in case you haven't heeded the warning before: those fools coated in blue and speak of 'peace' will only abandon you in the end. You know this. Those men in Congress, those people fighting for freedom, your woman who stands by you no matter the danger—it's all a front. They will stay by you until there is no more 'enemy' to fight. They will turn and she will leave—as nature intended."

"Enough," he spat, "Do you think me a fool to follow your blatant lies? The Templars only seek to have humanity fall and become something cold and soulless. I shall never give in. Only free this woman and let us leave quietly."

"And have you go free to step on our necks with that loose-cannon Negro woman on your arm?! I beg to differ," she pointed her sword up to his chest; "I'll have you hanged before I allow such barbaric revolution crush our order!"

Then an explosion threw the ship on ship on its side and everything slammed to the side. Connor's back meeting the iron bars and burning sensation crept down his side whiplashed him. Everything momentarily sank into black before he got a hold of himself. Then a metallic ring caught his attention and he outflanked it with a broken lantern he grabbed off the wall. Eleanor grunted as she tenaciously pushed forward with a wicked smile on her face. The assassin waited for her to come closer before kneeing her in the chest, throwing her further away from him.

"Enough of this, Assassin," she sounded bored out of her mind and got to her feet, "Let us settle this like gentlemen." Redcoat kicked up her sword and tossed her other to Connor. It'd be wasteful to battle this out like savages. They readied themselves and the blonde in her cage watched above as they went back and forth, fencing furiously.

…..

The whole top deck was a mess. Wood and sails were flanked everywhere and there were some men, friend or foe, impaled on the sharp pieces that were made or buried under the posts of the sails. The novice-eagle felt the winds start to die down and thought to survey the area right about now, but a tearing pain ripped through her whole side. She looked down and found a whole scorch mark through her patch of feathers. It smelled of burnt meat and gunpowder. _Great_. This was something the assassin was sure to have as well and she shrugged. She'll have to deal with it and took off into the air to see who survived. There were some men of the Aquilla still stumbling amongst the debris—the first mate being one of them. He looked up, revealing his bloodied head.

"Your friend better be alive and well," he dusted himself off, "I don't think I can take anymore… Check on the captain, you muckworm!" She nodded and flapped to the open side of the ship and dove into the broken window. The flipped hallway was too dark for a normal person to make out the setting. Her vision now was even more so. She used her seventh sense to ease navigation and looked around. Soon she heard a lot of rhythmic clanking swinging back and forth. _A fight_? She flew further in, picking up speed until she saw two bodies clashing swords at each other. Her talons latched onto the ceiling and dragged herself on her beak until she saw open bars containing her blonde companion.

Angie felt her heart flutter, seeing her friend come for her at last. Her body squeezed through the bars to meet her.

"Oh my God," she whispered and wrapped her arms around her—Sipsy bit her nail until it bled, "Agh! What the fu—"

"[I try this hard to find you and you don't even have my back? That bitch cursed me and… and you sat back and let her! The only one who protected me then was Connor. What kind of friend are you?]"

"Sipsy, babe, these are the rules. I can't just—"

"[Shut up! You're the one who convinced me to confess my love and have sex with him in the first place! I'll deal with your ass when we go home!"]

Then she heard the finishing blow. She went through the bars again and charged into an impaled Redcoat and let the Passage Field fall all around them. At first, the novice was surprised to see the scenery fall as it did. She really didn't expect to see this part of her power until her curse was lifted. They were still hunting Templars, so it mattered not. They needed this ability if they were going to record this part of history for the Assassin lineage.

"You really believe your cause to be just, boy?" Eleanor coughed, "This is no fairytale, Mr. Kenway. This is a war. There are no heroes, there are no fairy-godmothers, and there are no happy endings! You will be stained by betrayal by those who follow you, even your own observers."

"That will never happen," he retorted.

"What a load of bollocks…" she countered, "Tell me then, when have they ever considered that staying in the 18th century is the best idea. Have they ever yearned for a taste of home? To return to their families? Don't be so naïve. They could leave you so easily, but such could never be done to the people who raised them—bred them to this path. Deep down, you know this. Soon, you'll have nothing. Just… wait." She closed her eyes as more blood fell from her lips. Connor grunted and took the cell keys off her belt buckle, shoving it into the lock to open the door. Angie climbed out and refused to look into her captain's face, afraid of what she'll see. She was expecting a livelier rescue, but instead her saviors were more than pissed off. Today was a mess. The blonde willed herself not to cry. Times like this, she would lock herself in the shower and think over on her life choices. Here, her friend helped her through many things, but she failed to protect just this once. Sipsy was right, though. It was her that convinced her to pursue her sinful desires and now… now she had to pay for it because of her big mouth. What has she done?

"_I'm… I'm so sorry_—"

"[Save it. I'm never listening to you ever again, you fucking whore.]"

* * *

**Well, that didn't turn out as good as it was expected for it to be, huh? Things get even worse before they get better, I guess. Don't worry 'bout it, though. She won't stay an eagle for long. In fact, there's a treat for the next chapter and-calm down, I'm still in the process of typing. My fingers are on fire right now and I still have more energy to type some more! I swear after this, my hands will be SO muscular. **

**Anyway, I am so thankful for 11k views. You guys are the best. Thanks to my new followers, too!**

**Stay tuned for meeting Haytham in the next chapter! :D**


	21. Chapter 21: Dilemma

_"When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before."_

**Mae West**

* * *

Returning home took a bit of work since the storm nearly wiped the entire crew, but it wasn't the only thing rattling the nerves of the remaining crewmen. Upon Eleanor Mallow's body laid a letter from Haytham Kenway, addressing an order to root out the Commander in Chief and have him killed. Washington was still in danger… They had to go back to the north with haste, but the observers weren't too worried. They believed the Assassin would destroy the Templar order since he was determined enough. However, he believed his determination was barely sufficient. That was just one issue. The novice snubbed to speak to her blonde accomplice ever since they rescued her. She didn't feel sorry for nearly biting her whole finger-nail off. In fact, she wished she did after not being defended. Maybe staying in the 18th century this long wasn't too bad; she was starting to see who her true friends out here were. What's more is the part of the curse where she would revert to a fowl. Tsipporah bit at her wings, frantic at how long she was going to stay like this. The two were up fighting it out. The rest of the crew was a little frightened at the girl's anger towards her 'friend'.

"Come on, babe, speak to me," Angie pleaded.

"[…]"

"Please?"

"[…]"

"You know having a relationship was a bad idea anyway…"

"[Stop trying to reason with me already, you whore! I have talons now. I can fuck up your face if you keep trying to talk to me!]"

"Sipsy—_AUGH_! Okay! **Okay**!" the cursed novice swooped into her face with the intention of clawing out her eyes. "At least you know how it felt, right?!"

"[I'M GONNA GUT YOU LIKE A FISH!]"

"I didn't tell you to listen to me anyway! Why are you mad at me?!"

"[You gave Connor a condom! You think you had no part in this?!]"

She kept her talons fixated on the objective of bloodying Angie's face until she would properly apologize. Everything was fine for them to just keep to friendship; maybe even just romantic love, but no, they had to step right out of bounds and listen to the dumb blonde just this once. Now she and her man were cursed by the First Civilization for acting upon such sinful impulses. Why not Angie? She is the Eyes of Aphrodite, so why did she not receive punishment as well? Every opportunity that lay before her she's taken advantage—never was she ever cursed to sentence to the stripping of her powers. This wasn't fair at all. The novice couldn't help but unleash all her pent up aggression. Nothing about this trip to save the world was magical at all even though it was wartime. In fact, it made her want to forget all of this.

Connor sighed and requested for his first mate to take the wheel for a moment. As he did, the captain walked up to the two bickering women—well, woman and fowl. He managed to reach for her neck and pull her back, apologizing for treating her roughly, but he had no choice. The novice began to quiet down and resorted to latching onto his forearm. She shrugged her shoulders and glared at her ex-friend. The captain would not let this go on.

"You both cannot continue like this. I only ask that whatever problems you have with each other, you will solve them like the adults that you are."

"[Hmph…]"

"But I want to apologize, Connor. She won't listen to me…" Angie sniffed and folded her hands. The novice could take no more of this. Why should she accept a 'sorry' from someone who pushed them off the cliff in the first place? "I can't do anything to change our leader's mind, but I can't let you guys go off alone…"

"Will you not hear what she has to say, Tsipporah?"

"[Motherfucker, _hell no_. I'm not mad at the fact that we laid down, no; I'm mad that she encouraged me to do it _and_ you, and now that we did it together as a loving couple would, the bitch goes ahead and snitches on us like we did something wrong. You whore, I followed _your _advice! …The one time I listen to you and you… _you just_…]" She wanted to cry. She regrets nothing of what's been done. She cannot change the past and will never do so, but the one time she's truly loved someone—her girl-friend did not defend them at all. Suppose this was one of the things amongst many emotions that reside in war—_betrayal_. "[Nothing is going to make me change my mind, though. You're still my friend, but a very unreliable one when shit gets real. I'll keep watch from the crow's nest if that's okay, captain?]" He nodded and she took off to the peak of the ship until she could perch onto the nest's post to oversee everything. Down below, a distressed Angie stood. She pinched her forehead in her hands, wondering how she was going to make up for all of this.

"She is stubborn to a fault, but she will forgive you." Connor patted her shoulder reassuringly and the blonde gave an incredulous look.

"What makes you so sure?" she choked.

"You have said this yourself. She treasures her friends dearly. She will not be rid of you so easily."

"Right…" she jerked and remembered to ask, so she leaned forward and whispered, "Did you two like your first night together?" Connor stepped back and glared at her. As much as this woman helped him out in trying to get the novice near him, he felt that that sort of information was too private to disclose. "Come on, at least tell me!" she hissed excitedly. He should keep this brief for he didn't want to keep Faulkner waiting.

"I will speak of it when we are back in Homestead, but until then, you must mend the severed ties with Tsipporah. You've known her for years. Surely, this feud will not last long." Angie wanted to laugh. Was he really this naïve? Maybe he didn't know how some Haitians work. If there's anything she's learned of her friend's culture is that the people are very stubborn and full of pride. It wasn't just Juno that set her friend back on revealing her true feelings for him; it was personal pride. Whether or not she was shielding herself in the beginning, admitting some personal touches would be out of character as a Caribbean girl. The blonde went back to work about the Aquilla, mostly on standby whenever the captain needed the sails to be adjusted. Night still painted the sky, yet the blue gradually appeared. The stars were still out, too. At least, in the novice's eyes, there was no British flag on the horizon.

….

At some point, the novice felt herself tired and fell asleep, cuddling into her own feathers. The feeling was nice. To be able to curl one's self in for warmth was heavenly. Such a feeling brought about pleasant dreams within her of the times she was here earlier. The days of training and the days of old…

_"Don't be mad at Achilles, man," the Goth tried to coax the native boy into calmness, "He made sure that you were learning on the job. What's wrong with a little sink or swim?"_

_"Do not play games with me, Tsipporah, nor should you defend the old man! You nearly died back in Boston, losing so much blood!" Young Connor paced back and forth angrily in the dining room as he recalled the events that took place only a few days ago. The old man kept him training nearly hour every of the day. The only breaks he was given was when he ate, slept, or had to study on the history of the world as well as the Templars. He was about to go to his room until he heard his friend fall over in the study, spilling ink everywhere. He was confused as to why she would walk on such a severe injury. Her calf was split open and it almost took Surry half the night to stitch it up neatly. She wanted to write or draw, she said. Without them both, she would implode and would truly be in pain._

_"Stop being such a girl, man," she punched his arm assertively, "That's another reason why the dude's training you: to stop being such a pussy. There can't be two pussies in one household. 'Course, I metaphorically have a penis, which makes you a woman." She ended her phrase with a trolling smile—a look that Connor has grown to hate since she first appeared before him. Although, it was her tough persona that's made him not fret over her well-being as much. She is tough or at least tries to be. It was a part of her that he sort of admired. Not many girls or women are like that in his village. Sure he's had a share of tough-skinned women caring for him, but this one was strange. Her inquisitiveness about her surroundings set them both in the same box. She, too, was looking at him the same way. His clothing didn't exactly embrace his body and often wondered… no. She's seen him without his top before, but never acknowledged it. She didn't take the time to search his body with her eyes—why is she thinking so hard about this?! At that moment, the teen realized that she was gazing into his eyes and he locked into her stare, walking closer to her. __**Quick, say something inappropriate**__. Fart? Burp loudly? _Blurt out "penis"?

_"Why do you stare?" he whispered as he was almost inches away from her face, "_You_ are the strange one here."_

_"You're the one coming all up in my personal space," she furrowed her brows—rather thick, too, but shapely. Never wore any make-up or tried to fit in at all either, claiming it to be overrated and a waste of time. He wasn't the only one to think she was unordinary. "Maybe you should worry about getting back to reading before the old man kicks my ass." She shoved a book onto his chest, but it didn't faze or move him. He kept looking at her. Narrowing his eyes as if he was trying to see something in her, but couldn't. It's been bothering him ever since he met her in the forest. Why was she so familiar? Unconsciously, he took her cheek into his palm, stroking the plump skin under his thumb. Euphoria washed over him while she froze in her place, bewildered and confused. Tsipporah was told that natives were very social and interact very closely, but she was a complete sociopath most of the time. These were one of those times._

_"What are you thinking about?" she whispered, withering in his touch._

_"My mother. The day you I found you in the forest was the day my mother passed."_

_"I know she must be proud for you to be doing all this training to protect your people."_

_"If only I could have protected her then. I wasn't strong enough then and I will not let such a thing happen again, yet… it did with you. Had Samuel Adams not appear you would have bled to death… and I could have done nothing but watch." She took him by the shoulders and shook the hell out of him._

_"And I could've let you die to save my own life, Connor, but I'm not that kind of pussy. You are alive and the only thing you can do is make the most of it. I'm surprised that I didn't die, shit."_

_"Yes," he caressed her cheek, "I am glad you have not perished. Even though I was not so kind in the beginning, you still wanted to form a truce with me. I respect that." There was a light in his eyes as he looked at her. It was friendly and nostalgic. He was grateful that she defended him despite bearing ill-will towards her. In years, he has never met such an outsider who would go so far for him. His mother did tell him once that his special friends will not just be of native descent, but something more. As her body steadily burned, she took his hand in hers and handed him a special keepsake. He remembered it from days before when he asked of it. She claimed it to belong to someone he will meet later in his life. Her passing was untimely and decided that now was the time to give it to him—to return it to the person that gave her the gift. The Goth wanted to back away from his teasing hand._

_She wasn't too keen on getting all touchy-feely with boys; not that she was leaning into the opposite like her blonde friend at home was. They didn't know each other for so long and… his hands felt amazingly smooth. Her mind pleaded for them to pass through her hair once more—to explore her locks as much as he pleased. He took his hand back for a moment to pull something from his side pouch. The teen came back to reality when she saw him pull away. In his hand was a small carving two figures with a crown engraved into them. _

_"What is that…?" she felt like she knew the answer to her question, "I think I've seen this before…"_

_"My mother told me that a spirited girl gave her this, praying that my father would return to her. She said it was a love-charm or something like that."_

_"Love charm…" it sounded too familiar. She made a lot of those when she was five, before heading to America by government aid. All in her childhood, she would make charms for the divorced, the separated, and they would work. People would find their true love with these. Funny how she was receiving this from… Connor. "That's weird. I used to make these when I was a kid. It sure looks familiar—"_

_"And just when were planning to clean all of this?" Achilles entered the room and the two adolescents stiffened, waiting for death. "Connor, return to your studies."_

_"Yes, master." He immediately left the room and went towards the basement to retrieve his books. The Goth swung her feet innocently in her seat. There was nothing she could say that would take her out of trouble this time. The old man's eyes narrowed and readied his cane._

_"I see you had enough energy to walk all the way downstairs. Perhaps that energy can be used for something more useful."_

_"Okwhateveryouwant." She jittered, not liking how he raised his cane at her._

_"I told you before that I will not tolerate any more of your shenanigans. On your feet." She stood up the best she could, feeling some pain travel up and down her leg already. Her eyes closed, waiting for the blows to come. The one thing that reminded her of home just had to be the spankings…_

**THUD.**

Practically, the whole ship ran onto the top deck hearing a strange bang. Sounded like a body falling on deck. The captain was already on it as he was at the wheel, commanding the men to weigh anchor. He leapt over the railing to find the source of the noise… surprised to see what it was. The toned figure shook her unruly curls and cracked her neck. Blinking, she yawned and rubbed her eyes, and stopped for moment. Hands… fingers… smooth skin… hair… oh, shit. Connor didn't expect this outcome.

"You're—"

"Human!" Angie pointed and the novice stood on her legs, squealing. But how did this happen?

"What the hell? _How_ am I human again?"

"You're not even gonna celebrate that you're human again?"

"Nope. This is too unexpected and my hair is still white. What if I turn again?"

"Babe, you sound like you might turn into a werewolf."

"Are you ladies done talking? We need to head home," the captain broke them up, "We will seek out answers once we return home."

* * *

Even returning home brought them no peace; not that they expected any different. The young Assassin could not be swayed by the old man's words of telling Washington the schemes that unfolded between the Assassin Brotherhood and the Templar Order. The two observers didn't want any part in it. They've gotten so used to their bickering the months after that they had to find other ways to amuse themselves. In the following time, the novice found herself turning every night, soon realizing that fowl-form was nocturnal. Upon visiting Clan Mother for advice, she learned that this form was bestowed on her by her mentor—Ziio. Of course. It explains why her hair changed, but there was another problem still—Juno… just as Connor and Achilles were fighting, as did she and her own friend. However, the blonde had tried every second of the day to muster proper words of apology only for the other to not accept. At the Davenport manor, Tsipporah kept herself in her room one afternoon as she overheard Godfrey and Terry throwing fits as always. Since this timeline barely had any cable, their noise would suffice. Every now and then, she peeked out the window.

"Come on, babe! How long are you going to stay out there? It's a beautiful day!" Damn, that blonde doesn't give up. The novice let out a frustrated grunt and rolled in her bed. Perhaps she's gotten too comfortable living in the 18th century for so long. What was she now? Oh, yeah… twenty-three.

"I wonder what I could have ended up doing had I not get mixed up in all of this…"

"Babe!"

"It's fucking cold outside, you frostbiting-whore!" she instantly reacted. She didn't want anything more to do with her. Sure, they could be comrades in arms; allies even. They can't be friends after all they've been through for several reasons—this war, for one. It struck some cords into her that perhaps being in any relationship with Connor at this point would prove a danger to everyone. She already had him knee deep trouble with Juno. Juno… she's been pestering her since the start of this trip. When the novice thought this trip to another time would be adventurous and fulfilling, she ended up as the errand-boy of the spirits—much less the old man. To add salt to her wounds was that she wasn't allowed to feel anything with the assassin—fuck that. If feeling was forbidden, they shouldn't have chosen a human for this job. The first person outside her circle she told was her own father. The only thing that fazed him about the whole thing was that his own daughter was crushing on a Mohawk Native-American fresh from the forest. At least, with him, everything remained the same.

"No, you don't understand! Someone is here asking about you!" The novice kicked her door open. "Aw, babe, don't make that face. Connor's down again. Maybe you should go hunt with him."

"He and the old man fight every day now. I don't want to get involved."

"Are you hearing yourself right now?"

"What, bitch? I like to stay as neutral in this as much as humanly possible."

"Fine, Sipsy. Stay in that room for all I care! I don't need you!" she jumped the railing of the stairs to the sitting room, finding the assassin there. How ironic because there was something she wanted to ask him, anyway. Perhaps now was a bad time. He was writing in his journal furiously, nearly slashing the pages with a quill in hand. Then again, he was trained to make anything into a weapon. She knocked the archway before entering, letting him know that she was there. Of course he knew who was there, however. She always smelled of some floral aroma. The scribbling of the quill ceased as she came beside him, peering over his shoulder and he promptly shut his private book.

"What do you want?" he growled, making no eye contact.

"Nothing in particular, but since you asked—"

"I am sorry, but I am in no mood for conversing, Emily. I wish to be alone."

"Not with Sipsy, at least? She's been in her room for a while… because of me." He finally looked to her, but with a hint of pity. The blonde stood aside, allowing her childhood friend to face the wrath of the white spirit. She felt responsible, thinking that putting them together like this would bear no consequence. "I mean, when I think about it, our fights are kind of like Godfrey and Terry. Only now, I don't think she'll ever forgive me. I know I said some shit about her being forgiving and all, but… Connor, you gotta understand. Her grudges run deep once they start." And it was true. Once the novice begun to hate, there was no stopping in her. The blonde bit at her nails, waiting for the young man to answer her, but the sounding of footsteps traveling down the stairs had their attention. At the end of the steps was a sour-faced observer, huffing and coming into the room.

"What're you two talking about?" she sassed, "I know it's nothing important; that's for sure." Connor stood, somewhat taking this as an offense. "What?"

"Is your friendship with her not important?" he waved his hand over Angie, "You need to mend this, Tsipporah. You cannot continue divided like this!"

"Then tell me, babe. Did your friend ever try to pressure you into something so risky only to find out that in the end that it would get you punished?" He narrowed his eyes. "Well?"

"No."

"See what I mean—"

"Because it was my doing. I led us to the outer reaches out Mohawk Valley, knowing the consequences." Both girls stilled their breaths, unsure of what to make of this. They knew their boss was rebellious, but to be so evasive of the rules. Guess they didn't know him as well as they thought they did. The girls looked to each other and back to the assassin with faces beckoning him to explain himself.

"You know of this," he pointed to Tsipporah, "It was the day we met that I taught the way of hunting to my friend, Kanen'tó:kon. The day before, I had convinced Kateri to try to get closer to him." The novice thought over how they all met and connected the dots. Son of a bitch…

"Where you find found me… was a restricted area. And Kateri kissing Kanen'tó:kon…"

"Yes."

"And here I thought you were a bit cold down south and lukewarm up north." It was a term only Angie understood amongst others from school. The blonde immediately laughed at the reference, recalling how they used it as a term for boys who had problems getting intimate for several reasons. They described Marie Antoinette's husband as such since it took over seven years for them to consummate their marriage. The thought had them wonder for a second what they were doing right about now. Connor gave a livid smirk, annoyed by the comment. _Guess he knew what it meant…_

"But they weren't cursed."

"No, but my cousin's mother was furious. She threatened to kill Kanen'tó:kon should she find them together again. They would not listen."

"How romantic…" she noted sarcastically, "And they weren't scared?"

"Of course not. We've dealt with much more dangerous things; not just Aghanashimi. They were not afraid and neither am I. To have you beside me is an honor. If I'm to be cursed for pressing further, then so be it. Better I cursed in your affections than to be free in solitude." _Whoa, wait_.

"What the fuck, man?" she threw her arms up. Angie wasn't sure if she should stick around anymore. "You cannot be serious about that. Isn't freedom what you want for yourself and everybody else?"

"Of course I do," he walked to her until he was only a few feet away of her personal space, "Or did you forget that night in the deepest part of the forest?" Angie rolled onto the floor holding her chest, stifling a fit of laughter. The novice's eye twitched—not out of annoyance, but remembering clearly how that night escalated quickly. It was a night she would never regret. _Ever_. However, for it to be rubbed in her face about it, didn't make her feel so proud about it. _Is this how her friend felt every time she called her a "whore"_?

"That was the night I felt that I had obtained more freedom with you. I did not expect acceptance from it and I know you did either. I will not apologize for my actions and neither should you or Miss Burke." A weight was somehow lifted from Angie's shoulders about this whole argument as she lay on the floor, eventually getting back on her feet. She was too afraid to take a breath as she looked to the novice who wore a contemplating expression. He knew they'd all be in trouble if he'd pursue any personal goals. Not that he was afraid, but thought there were other things that required his full attention. Ever since they met, all of his cogitating was still focused on avenging his mother and protecting the innocent. The novice told him once that revenge was not the answer whether Charles Lee was his target or not—revenge would destroy him. All of those thoughts came flooding back the moment they came together. Tsipporah wasn't too sure on what to say to that. She brushed her fingertips at her lips before looking to her friend. Of course trouble would follow. All this time she was afraid to say anything for a long time. A rueful smile formed on her face.

"You knew all of this would happen and you were sorry even before you said anything, weren't you Angie?" The blonde looked away, cheeks blushing and ready for tears. "You knew I was scared this whole time and pushed me into it? Why?"

"Because you're my best friend and you deserve better!" she took the novice by her shoulders and looked her in the eye with her own streaming with tears, "You always talked about going on an adventure one day, painting the town in bright colors, and finding true love to ride off into the sunset with—what happened to that girl who saved me from myself back home, huh? You know, the girl who stopped me from undoing the strapping on my seat when we rode the rollercoaster at the Youth Fair?"

"I never recovered from that, you bitch! Ever since then, I had panic attacks on and off, and nothing seemed right anymore. People thought _I_ was the suicidal one because of you. Because of you!"

"That was something you did on your own because you believed that I was something more than just some guy's douche-bag. Now all of a sudden because of one act of bravery, you stopped acting like the girl I met and I need her back—you need her back."

"And why should I listen to anything you have to say about how I was before, huh?! Everything that I was back then pissed off everyone—"

"And made them trust in you. Sipsy… I've never seen you as happy as you were back then… than when you talked about Connor here. And I thought that once you came back to the 18th century you would tell him straight up whether he would accept you or not, but you didn't. So I pushed you." The novice choked and her ears were ringing. "Babe, I knew something bad was going to happen… I just—I wanted you to stop being afraid to go forward and fuck Juno. She can kiss my ass if she thinks she's gonna curse my best friend and the person she loves and—"

"Angie," she snapped, "I get it. Now stop trying to apologize when you shouldn't." The blonde relaxed her hands and let them fall from the novice's shoulders. "You keep this up and I'll have to go to jail for smackin' ho's." Angie chucked a laugh. "And shouldn't you be spooning with your man? Where's Fillan? I know he's missing that ass." The blonde wrapped her arms around her, crying into her neck. Tsipporah patted her back, uncertain of how she should calm her down. She was never good at these sorts of things. It was never her specialty. The assassin crossed his arms, glad that they were able to rekindle. He had to stay in case one of them decided to dart off, leaving the entire quarrel unresolved.

"Can I assume that all is well now?" he interrupted and the two looked at him.

"Yeah," the novice answered, "Thank you… Ratonhnhaké ton."

"Are you sure he's not doing all this to get in your pants again?"

"I gonna go back to jail. I'm gonna go back to jail because you, bitch." The assassin shook his head, seeing that the girls were back to being their usual selves. He saw it fitting that he would leave them alone, so he exited the room. His partner stopped him, putting herself into the entrance. "And where are you going?"

"To cease the fighting of Godfrey and Terry. They've been arguing for some time now and it must end."

"I'm more worried about you and the old man. Why don't you guys make up?"

"Because his naïveté will be the death of him," Achilles replied, scoffing, "Even your own observer believes it as well."

"Whoa!" she raised her hands in defense, "Don't drag me into this fight. I just made up with Angie here." Well, looking out for Connor is her responsibility, but she wanted no part in this fight. All the fighting wore her out at the end of each week and long travels tore at her muscles. More of this madness and she'll be riddled with twice the scars than she received leaving home. No way was she getting involved in two old guys jabbing. _Then again…_ Connor sent her a questioning gaze. She chewed her lips into a thin line, twiddling her fingers with guilt. "Look…" she tried, "I have said this shit a lot of times. Not that I'm agreeing with the Templars here, but their vision of the world is just—"

"_Wrong_, Tsipporah," he didn't let her finish. He had no intention of doing so.

"Connor… babe… let me speak. Besides, I don't agree with taking away free will either—it's horrendous, inhumane—but if there's something… never mind. You'll kill me if I say it." Angie saw the look on her companion's face. She did this with dancers back in high school before belittling them on occasion. Not to hurt their feelings, but to be real about how they go about their situations. If she was going to defend her comrade; it'd be now. He'd probably curb stomp her mentally because he's still above putting his hands on a woman; much less one that he cared about so much. She crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping her honesty wouldn't raise bullets.

"Well, speak. You have my permission."

"If there's anything the Templars are right about, it's that you're a bit—nope," her bluntness was showing, "Yeah, man, you're such a kid at heart. I mean 'all strings should be broken, all should be free', really? You're not the first idealist who thought that and tried so hard to achieve it. That's the most childish notion I've ever heard of and I'm from the 21st century." She should shoot herself in the foot right about now. The old man was ready to laugh his ass off now that he was seeing the rational form of his partner, but she was still talking. "Although, calling you 'hero' was a bit of a childish notion, too, and I still believe in it. I was hoping we'd never have to tell or exploit the Brotherhood's secrets. And I can care less what those of the First Civilization have to say about it. You are my boss. Why listen to a bunch of dead guys anyway? I've already broken so many rules waltzing around with you. I can't see why warning Washington would be a big deal." She turned her face away with a smug look as Achilles gave a look of disapproval. The assassin was smiling inside.

"Fools. The lot of you," he gestured with his cane and turned away, "Do not expect any good to come out of this. To think that your own observer has been dragged into your foolhardiness and knows what to expect of it."

Oh God, what has she done? Is her mind completely gone now? What was she thinking? She knew very well that this was a dumb idea, but wouldn't go against. Of course she outwardly said it was a stupid path to follow and she's broken many rules in the spiritual realm, but this is reality. What does it matter anyway? She's disappointed many others before. At least this time, it's for something done right. Would something of this delicate matter alter time in some way, thought? The questions lingered in her thoughts.

"Interesting that you still think me childish," he glared, "and to be agreement of the enemy."

"Hey, I can't just agree with you all the time. You think I'm that easy now? What, because we had sex or because I said I loved you—Oh, so you're just gonna walk away while a nigga talkin'?" she started getting passionate with her speech and Connor turned to the door. He could simply tell her to be quiet, but that would ignite the debate even more.

"This conversation is over," he said over his shoulder, "We will warn Washington of the Templars' plot."

"We?!"

"Looks like you're not getting' any lemons anytime soon, huh, babe?"

"Angie, shut the fuck up."

….

Just when a few friendships were mended, twice more were others broken. Though they kept their affections under wraps for the sake of the revolution, the assassin and the observer kept a distance from each other while the student and the mentor argued every day. She would say a few words to him, but he barely replied back. He would greet her in the morning and at night, but that's all he ever would say. It was starting to rip a gaping hole inside her. Maybe she shouldn't have said the things she said the year before. So much time has passed since then. What brought them even further was the fire that broke out in Boston. Many were killed and the Templars were suspected of starting the fire. It was the perfect plan to raze the city. The wind from the seas caused the flames to travel even over the Hudson River and the recruits did all they could to prevent the flames from spreading as well as evacuating the residents. It was a busy night, but what's worse is that Alice decided to tag along, secretly and that did not end well…

The cause of the fire had the citizens conflicted and the British bewildered. Somehow, all of it pointed to Washington and his 'soldiers'. Connor did not believe it. It was obviously another plot to pin the blame on the Commander in Chief so that the people would doubt and disfavor him. What the observers didn't expect of this was the extremity their enemy was willing to take. Well, except for the Boston Massacre. A surprise that was…

When winter came, everything had already escalated to a dire level that the assassin and the observer had to keep intervening. The elder mentor of the manor would not have this. What they were doing was suicidal—unthinkable. _If they were to continue like this_…

Tomorrow, they were to leave to aid Washington. The assassin had to be at the commander's side and make sure nothing bodes ill to his campaign. The young native man sat at his own bedside quietly writing in his journal. The past several months were difficult. The Templars were getting more and more tenacious with each passing day while he and his own observer were drifting apart, he feared. What was more urgent now was end of the Templar reign. The old man had some nerve degrading him. As if he deserves any credit. He's been discouraging him from the start:

_"Why do you fight, Connor?"_

_"To protect the innocent and preserve the hope of justice for all."_

_"Are you daft, boy?" the old man laughed. The native boy didn't take that comment so lightly. "You cannot hope to protect everyone. The entire Brotherhood is falling apart. You may hope to defeat the Templars, rebuild the Creed that we stand on, but for what? Once everything is set and done you will be left alone. Is that what you want?"_

_"As long as my people are safe, then let it be so." The novice stiffened when he said this. The stinging in her leg wavered as she stumbled on a cane that Achilles' let her borrow for a while until she can walk straight. Wobbling a bit, she took her native companion by the shoulder. Usually, he would brush her off, but not at this point for many reasons; her injury being one._

_"Man, you're a fucking idiot," she scoffed, "You're forgetting that I'm responsible for you."_

_"But for how long until the spirits take you back? You may be able to keep your promise, but once your so-called 'assassin' is finished or dead, you will return whether you like it or not." The Goth sniffed, knowing it to be the truth. "Well, maybe when your writing skills improve, then maybe I will educate you more seriously. Constance, make sure he studies and walk with some dignity. I will not allow two whipped dogs under my roof." And he walked away to the kitchen while both teens gave him a dirty look._

_"I'll show you old man!" Connor retorted, "You will have to take back all of those insults when I complete my training." The Goth was having some fun watching him get mad. She couldn't help but join in._

_"Yeah, tree-hugger, that's it! Next time, you should say 'fuck you' in his face, stand on your feet, arch your back; then lean in and go off on him." He stared blankly and she cleared her throat. "Sorry. It's like the third day since… meh. All he's been giving you was nothing but shit since you came here. I'm surprised he didn't pull a racist card on you."_

_"He needs to train me, Tsipporah. There is no other way. We both saw the faces of our enemies. They will come to my village again and destroy it. Soon they will turn on the world and erase the will of all humanity. I cannot let that happen. The old man can say what he wants. All I desire is justice." She narrowed her eyes in wonder of his character. It was one of the rare moments of the days they spent together that she would give him the silent treatment and turn away about her own business. "Tsipporah, I am not done speaking—"_

_"Come on, you gotta learn how to write. I hate math, but if literature and writing is a problem, then I can help you. Meet me in my room, pronto, Squanto."_

"Connor?" a knock pounded softly on his door, enough to alert him, but not enough to wake the whole house, "It's Sipsy."

"You may enter." She walked in a little dazed, rubbing the fatigue in her eyes. She obviously woke up from sleep and couldn't fall back into it. "I see you are not in an eagle form. You've learned to control it?"

"I guess so," she shrugged, "Clan Mother had me meditating in the sanctuary for a while after the fire, so now I can control it… a little." She yawned, "Am I interrupting anything, boss?" He shook his head.

"No. In fact, I was just about to go to sleep. Are you not well enough to do the same?"

"Hm? Yeah, apparently, you don't know an artist's sleep cycle; we're nocturnal. Can't sleep through the night for shit. I'll stay up until four in the morning doing nothing unless I walk into my studio, but… that was home. I'm just walking around." He saw the pang of sadness in her eyes when she mentioned home. She was to go back. Deep down, she wanted that, but now she seemed conflicted. She wasn't the only one with so much on her mind. He gestured for her to sit next to him. The novice was hesitant about it at first when she came near as the wood beneath her feet creaked and taunted her every step. She swallowed and stiffly sat down without turning to him. Her stance was almost that of a statue.

"You are not ill are you?"

"I'm fine," she answered quickly in one breath, still looking away. He wasn't too convinced. Either she was ill or emotionally closing herself again. Was there any point in doing so anymore? He let his hand take her arm, making her face him. Her eyes searched everywhere but him. He softly took her by her chin to focus.

"Why are you really here?"

"We don't talk so much. And since we might fight tomorrow, I thought now would be a good time. I dunno." She leaned back, still not used to the closeness. Despite them making love before, it was hard to be alone with her best friend without thinking about what they've done. Touching by itself made her shiver and remember. The rough grinding against her furrowed her brows, driving her insane. She scooted aside to keep calm. "Okay, maybe I'm not what I used to be because I can't seem to get over the fact that we… er…"

"We, what?"

"Had sex in the woods, Connor. Had sex in the woods." He gave a low chuckle, which was rare for him to do around others, combing his hair back with a free hand before looking back to the novice. Did he have to repeat himself? He was not about to take back that memory.

"Do you wish to undo that private activity?"

"I dunno. I'm still trying to find out whether I was in pain or actually enjoying it."

"You can still find out." She jerked at the comment, wanting to stand up now. "However, now we must prepare for morning. You need rest. I cannot have you half-asleep when the sun rises. Unless, of course, you meant to sleep here."

"…" her heart stopped, "I-It's sort of lonely and dark in my room. I ran out of matches, so—"

"Then sleep with me."

"What?" she sassed, "No! Not gonna happen. My back still hurts from being banged into the grass."

"So sleeping in my bed would be even more of a problem with your back?"

"Oh… ahaha, you literally meant, shit. Okay." She adjusted herself into his sheets and realized just how big his bed was. Sure, she's slept here before, but was too tired to ever notice. Her thoughts were cut as she felt his arms come around her from behind. She cleared her throat upon contact.

"Sorry."

"No, I'm just ticklish."

"That would explain the restlessness when we—"

"Good night, boss." His grip tightened and snuggled in closer until his breath was on her ear.

"You do not have to call me '_boss_', Tsipporah. Not here." The firmness his arms provided were downing most of her defenses again. She hoped he was going to leave it at spooning. Connor had no intention of getting any further tonight. He didn't want to boggle or trouble his observer any further. The least he was able to do was hold her close, feel her soft body against his. It was the least he could do until she started to struggle in his hold.

"If that's not your tomahawk poking my back; I'm gonna bite it off."

"…"

* * *

When morning came, the observers went to the stables to ready the horses. She happily greeted the beasts as she led them out of the stables, but as she came back up with them she saw her boss storming out of the house with Achilles calling out behind him. They both didn't seem happy at all:

"Don't do this, Connor!" the old man warned, but sounded more annoyed than worried. The last thing he wanted was his student destroying everything he built and worked so hard for. The young man walked out the door with his pack as his novice arrived with the horses and kept her head down, not wanting to be a part of this conflict.

"Then what do you propose we do? Sit and watch as the Templars take control? We are sworn to stop them, or have you forgotten?"

"Assassins are meant to be quiet. Precise. We do not go announcing conspiracies from the rooftops to all who pass by." He had a point there, boss. This is a bad idea.

"Who are you to lecture anyone? You locked yourself away in this crumbling heap and gave up on the Brotherhood entirely. Since the day I arrived, you've done nothing but discourage me. And on the rare occasions you've chosen to help, you've done so little, you may as well have done nothing at all." The novice turned her face and mouthed to herself something about applying water to burned area.

"How dare you!" the old man stepped forward. He was not about to take this criticism from a lowly student who was a bit narrow-minded about the world and the gray areas that followed suit.

"Then tell me: On whose watch did the brotherhood falter? Whose inaction allowed the Templar Order to grow so large that it now controls an entire nation?!" The novice scrambled onto her horse, swinging her feet patiently as she sat up on the saddle. She had to look away when the old man was glaring at her as if she should say something. Nope. Nope. Nope. Your student; your problem.

"If I sought to dissuade you, it was because you knew nothing! If I was reluctant to contribute, it was because you were naïve. A thousand times you would have died and taken God knows how many with you. Let me tell you something, Connor: Life is not a fairytale and there are no happy endings!"

"No. Not when men like you are left in charge."

"In your haste to save the world, boy—take care you don't destroy it." Connor nodded and turned to his observer for a moment that quickly morphed to her other form, jerking her head in his direction.

"[Don't mind me. I'm just a majestic, international figure of freedom.]"

"We're leaving."

"['kay.]" She turned back. Over time the turning quickened in pace—so fast that there was no pain in doing it. The assassin took off first, but the blonde stopped her friend.

Angie scrunched her face, already hearing their argument. It was too cold to be having a heated argument. The blonde couldn't resist gossiping with her friend to change the mood; can't have two grouches on this trip.

"Be careful, babe. Make sure a redcoat doesn't give you a redcoat."

"Thanks. See you later. Hah!" she whipped the reigns and Archer sped off behind

….

This winter was colder than any other before. Every few seconds, the two were breathing into their hands to stay warm along the way. It made one wonder how on earth the colonists were doing at Washington's encampment. The grim silence was rather chilling in the air save for the rare movement of animals in the woods. After the long trot, they made it to the Valley Forge encampment and parked the horses aside. Well, Connor did; the novice fell off hers.

"Observer…"

"I'm okay!" she raised her thumb in the air comically before rising to her feet. Afar, stood the commander who was pacing back and forth; it seemed like something was troubling him and Connor's suspicions were correct. He with him and the novice's heightened hearing caught the conversation sharply. A man by the name of Benjamin Church may have taken off with supplies meant for the camp after being released from prison. The colonists were already preoccupied with surviving the winter and didn't have enough men to investigate this matter further. Not a problem. Connor agreed to find Church for him as well as the missing supplies. The novice stood with the horses, sighing on how they were even going to start with this until—

"[Maybe you can ask of this matter to the animals.]" She heard a voice, but then she heard sputtering after. Her head snapped to the horses as the assassin appeared by her side and she grew an epiphany.

"Connor… I think I know how we're gonna find the men who did this faster."

"What do you mean?" he looked at her, then to Archer.

"Archer, you can understand me?"

"[Yes, so heed my words if you can. You must speak with the other forest animals and see if they know anything.]"

"This is so cool! I can understand what the horse is saying!" she clapped her hands, fangirling. Connor rolled his eyes and got onto his own horse, and the novice followed suit.

"So where in this forest should we begin?"

"No idea—"

"[_Wolves_!]"

"What?" And just as their horses warned, a pack appeared, barreling out of the forest to surround those who served the Brotherhood. Connor quickly acted, leaping off the saddle and charged at one who appeared to be the leader, but the novice intervened.

"Wait!" the wolves stopped before they moved onto the camp. Some colonists already had begun to gather bayonets in their arms and gunpowder at their sides. "The men who came to the camp and stole supplies—do you know where they are?" The young assassin wrinkled his face, wondering if what she was doing was wise, but it seemed as if the wolves would oblige to answer. They circled 'round slowly, snarling as they searched the two with their bestial eyes that shined of grey and gold. One of them leapt forward at her and pinned her to the ground.

"Tsipporah!" Connor took out his hidden blade, but the novice held her arms out in surrender. "If you hurt her…"

"[A girl who speaks the tongue of us beasts. Interesting. Give us one good reason to not harm your little gathering here.]"

"That guy in the hood can kill your leader in 0.5 seconds flat." The wild dog licked his lips and pressed his claw further into her coat. "We're looking for the men who stole this camp's supplies. Do you know where they went?" The wolf may as well be a serial killer as he flashed a slasher smile, or what she thought it to be one. He slowly got off her chest and looked to the hooded man who had their leader under his forearm.

"[Release our leader. He saw the men who came in the night like thieves.]"

"[Indeed…]" the leader snarled, "[Humans come to steal; to pillage those who do not walk upon two legs. The dark-skinned people were enough, but now these men of pale faces come and pillage, too. They are worse. If they freeze to death, then so be it.]"

"Connor," the novice started, "That wolf you're crushing knows where the men have gone with the supplies."

"Give me one reason to believe that."

"He hates humans, but they favor the natives." Connor got up, freeing the leader from his hold and the huffed in a taunt before trotting his way through the forest path. He nodded his head in the direction to follow and the two got up on their horses, ready to follow.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Not really, but talking to animals is so fucking cool; you gotta admit."

* * *

**Hi guys. I'm not dead. Just dealing with a bi-polar, trolling computer. I finally got this finished and now I can move on with the next chapter with ease. Yes, we see Haytham there. Some of us may like it and some of us may not, but Daddy Doom's gonna be there. Why? Because I said so. :D**

**Shout out to my new followers and hope everyone is having a good New Years! Whoo! XD**


	22. Chapter 22: Benevolence

_"I am indebted to my father for living, but to my teacher for living well."_  
**Alexander the Great**

* * *

The two pursued the wolf pack into the woods with a trust only measuring to that of a pirate. The pack flat out said that they detest humans, so what reason do they have to help these two? Were they waiting for an opportunity to form an ambush? Were they walking straight into an ambush? The only thing certain was that they knew of Church's men filching important supplies. The walk through the snow didn't take long; before they knew it, they arrived at a church. It seemed pretty rundown and abandoned. There were broken crates in the area, so the henchmen might be still around here somewhere.

"[We saw humans sneak out from the camp to this church. They were waiting for their leader and when he came it was round man who stunk of blood and those drinks you humans call 'ale'.]" The alpha wolf growled, rather pestered by the memory of scent. "[Looks like they were gone hours ago, but they left a trail. It would be wise to check for clues. Humans aren't the brightest creatures for followers anyway.]"

The novice giggled at the last comment the leader gave and translated. Connor got off his horse and walked into the old church to look around, but as soon as he did the wolves perked up their ears and growled loudly. "[There is fresh scent of blood. Someone else is there.]"

"What?!" the novice tousled off Archer and scraped her knee, "Connor! There's—"It was too late. From where she stood, she saw a man jump atop the assassin with a blade in hand. "You guys stay here," she sprinted off and the pack surprisingly obeyed. Once she was at the side of the open doorway, she waved off the wolves to hide. To think they were going along with a plan of ambush now. As soon as the young man kicked the perpetrator back to the archway, she leapt out behind him with a firm forearm around his neck. While she held him in a headlock, she brandished her elbow-blade to his temple. When they all quieted, she saw who it was—Haytham. Great. _Fucking great_.

"Come to check up on Church? Make sure he'd stolen enough for your British brothers?!" the young assassin pointed an accusing finger while his comrade held him with a strong arm, or so they thought. The Grand Master sighed with annoyance, stepping on her foot, jabbing her side with his elbow, and locking her head, dropping her in a suplex before answering Connor.

"Benjamin Church is no brother of mine. No more than Redcoats or their idiot king." The novice groaned as she rose from the ground—should've seen that coming, so she ran behind her assassin, whining like a whipped dog. "I expected naïveté, but this… The Templars do not fight for the Crown. We seek the same as you, boy! Freedom. Justice. Independence."

"Motherfucker broke my head open…" she muttered to herself as the two spoke.

"But…" Connor hissed.

"Hmmm! But what?"

"Johnson. Pitcairn. Hickey. They sought to steal land. To sack towns. To murder George Washington." True enough. Why should his own father be spared and set up for mercy? The novice wouldn't think him much of a father for even setting up his own flesh and blood to be hanged for a crime he didn't commit. Wonder what excuse he has for such prolonging cruelty.

"Johnson sought to own land that we might keep it safe. Pitcairn aimed to encourage diplomacy—which you cocked up thoroughly enough to start a goddamned war! And Hickey? George Washington is a wretched leader. He's lost nearly every battle in which he's taken part. The man's wracked with uncertainty and insecurity. Only look at Valley Forge to know my words are true. We're all better off without him." He spoke the truth. If she learned anything in History class it's that Washington was pretty insecure as he is humble. He wasn't that much of a fighter, but he tries. Not all American leaders are perfect. They're only human after all. What did they expect? _Captain America_?

"Look, as much as I'd love to spar with you, Benjamin Church's mouth is as big as his ego."

"What's your point, Daddy Doom?" the novice spat her blood at him and he grimaced, continuing.

"You clearly want the supplies he's stolen. I want him punished. Our interests are aligned."

"What do you propose?" Tsipporah face palmed. No… this is not happening…!

"A truce. Perhaps… perhaps some time together might do us good. You are my son, after all, and might still be saved from your ignorance." The two of the Brotherhood looked at each other, wondering if this was even a sufficient idea at all. The novice muttered something about rather jumping off the eagle points like a maniac than make a truce with the enemy. The Grand Master saw the discord that was sure to take place and thought of a better idea. "I can kill you now if you'd prefer." They said nothing and stared, so Kenway took it as a 'yes'. "Excellent! Shall we be off?"

"Sure. Try to get him imprisoned, hanged, have Charles Lee deal with us, and now you wanna threaten us. Some daddy-o you are," she said under her breath.

"Do you even know where Benjamin Church has gone?" the young man had to ask because his father seemed as uncertain as he was. Of course, he replied that he didn't nor where to start. The group went outside and found broken crates around the area and figured that they could track him down—at least in Connor's case. He started on a nearby crate that had broken bottles and ripped fabrics. From the looks of it, the crates held numerous supplies containing medicine and clothes. Going further, he heard some growling mixed with some friendly panting. Tsipporah's mouth formed an "o" and stepped out between the men.

"It's okay, guys. Bad man's not planning on killing anyone. False alarm." The wolves jumped from their hiding places and sniffed around, staring at the trio as they continued their search. Haytham seemed curious about her ability to communicate with animals, but didn't bother to ask about it. It sort reminded him of someone he used to know. Looking at the two working together like this reminded him of his own observer when he was younger. The wolf pack stood by the horses, sitting as their leader was.

"Uh… before we go, I gotta ask: why are you helping us? You want some scraps or something?"

"[We do not take any trash you humans think you can provide. You stink of the woman who speaks to us. I was only a pup then. My father made sure she remained safe from any pale-faced man, but he fell to such hands—that man there. That other man is his offspring, no less. They share the same stink.]"

"Just curious, but what is he saying? Anything useful?" Haytham stood beside the novice and she hummed before turning to him.

"He says you stink and your son stinks." Connor shook his head and went ahead with the trail, latching onto a tree and begun to climb. The observer followed suit and eventually morphed into an eagle before the Grand Master's eyes. She spread her wings to surpass the level of the trees, flying behind her assassin. Haytham grumbled to himself of how he was incapable of climbing trees or anything of the sort. How troublesome. He had to pursue them on foot. The wolves narrowed their eyes as he passed by them to get into the brush of the forest. Watching his son from the ground leaping from the thick branches of high trees in the winter was starting to cause him to fall back into a flashback of how he met the mother. He had only thought of her in the silence of his mind when he wasn't surrounded by protocol or his followers. His face would be kept stern in public, but within himself…

"[Connor!]" they both spotted a man with a broken wagon, fussing about how he was going to freeze to death. He landed on the snow quietly with his father on his heels as the novice turned back.

"Are you Ben Church's man?" the assassin cupped his fist menacingly, scaring off the suspicious character.

"Well played," Haytham snickered.

"Fine, you guys. I'll get him…"

"No. I don't want to stay with your dad; he almost split my head like a melon."

He didn't listen; he just ran off to tag the henchman. It only took a second to do so successfully. The two left behind came up leisurely to tease their catch.

"It was not wise to run." The henchman struggled to no avail.

"W-What do you want?"

"Where is Benjamin Church?"

"I don't know!" he was scared shitless, "We was riding for a camp just north of here. It's where we usually unload the cargo. Maybe you'll find him th—" **_BAM!_**

The novice flinched a little, figuring what Haytham was going to do beforehand with that pistol in hand. The blood splattered all over her and she was completely mortified, jumping in place about how this outfit was made just for her by the women back in Kanatahséton.

"Enough of that."

"…My dress… Haytham, you sideways-son of a bitch!" she whined.

"You did not have to kill him!"

"Let's not waste time with all this pointless banter. Go catch up with the rest of Church's men. Infiltrate that camp of theirs and see what you can discover." The observer crossed her arms in defiance. She was told to only follow her assigned assassin, so she would only follow Connor. What she didn't fully expect was that he came with the dragon-dad fresh from hell. Haytham knew the novice would remain loyal. She was this stubborn at the prison, so what more could he expect. He reloaded his pistol and the novice screeched something inhuman—almost that of rabid fowl for scare. The assassin stood in front of her with a curled lip. The Templar sighed.

"Connor, move aside. She is deadweight and has no further use if she will not listen to reason—"

"That is because she follows me alone."

"Then I suppose you two should go on ahead, hm?"

"What about you?"

"Never mind you. Just do as I ask."

Tsipporah stepped out from behind Connor and walked ahead looking pissed off. The young man came after and dragged her in the other direction in search of the enemy's camp. There were two men walking in the forest path, approaching a wagon with horses and a bale of hay. Perfect. Before the men noticed, the two jumped into the bale as the henchmen started up a conversation that would reveal everything about where Church was—at least something about the stolen goods and it sounds like they still had the crates nearby in storage somewhere. Before long, they were in a restricted area crawling in the low bushes for cover. The native used his sharp vision to locate all his targets in the area to snuff out any possible surprise attacks. The chances of that were spiraling to zero now that novice had her senses back, but other things were bothering her; like working with the enemy. It was rather unsettling. Her companion always said that his father is and always will be his enemy. Family seemed like everything to his tribe and she believed—in the past—that they could come to an understanding. It wasn't just her calf muscle cut open that night of the Massacre but the idea that Haytham would accept his son. He made him wanted that night, he had him imprisoned, tortured, nearly hanged, and threatened to kill him. Men of her time would deny their child and not pay child support, but this… this was just plain cruelty.

"Tsipporah?" Connor's voice reached her.

"What?" she frowned.

"You seem troubled. Is there something wrong?"

"I'll talk about it later, babe, but it does concern you and your recent choice of friends." Speaking of "friends", the mercenaries were gathering towards their cabin. It looks like they caught someone trying to unwind their web.

"Look what we found!"

"He was creepin' around the camp all suspicious-like."

"Must be a Yank spy!" The leader took a look at him with a smug smile.

"No. He's something else. Something special. Isn't that right, Haytham? Church told me _all_ about you."

"Then you should know better than this—"the leader of the camp landed a punch to Haytham's face. He wasn't too fazed about it, not even when the mercenary poked in his face about not being in a position to be making threats… at least not yet. The novice sat in the bush with Connor as they saw for a few minutes of Haytham getting pounded on like a punching bag. It was getting fun to watch, but it wasn't in the assassin's nature to let others suffer, so he rose out of the bush.

"Ah, shit! Wait for me!" Tsipporah unsheathed her blades as her boss did and cut down every man that came at them. The men that held down the Grand Master were impaled with extreme prejudice, having no chance of reacting. Their blood-curling screams attracted the rest of the camp and soon the three were in the middle of a maelstrom of henchmen. This was not how she pictured how the day would go. The mercenaries laughed at how the "half-breed" was taking a swing at them and that the "negro" was fighting like a wild animal. "I got your wild animal right here!" she morphed and clawed at his face, picking out eyes while Connor's tomahawk continued to hammer its way through one bloodied chest to another. His hidden blade slit several throats in an instant as his father did the same with his sword. After a while, the Templar seemed bored and went out of the way.

"Once you've dealt with these louts, meet me in New York."

"What? You mean to just leave? Now?" Connor countered and fixed another blow to the face of the opponent.

"If you can't handle a couple of mercenaries, then we've really no business working together."

"Unbelievable…" And then the father just left; just like that. The henchmen kept coming at them nonstop. It was unbearable. There only seemed to be one way to speed things up—and that was to slow things down. Although her boss would not like it at all because the first time almost killed her; now she promised that she would never do it ever again. So much for that plan. Her second thought was even more endangering. She can't just erase them from existence, but before she could think even further the men were already dead all around them. Her brows raised in shock. Connor was starting to get faster or she was preoccupied in her musings.

….

"Now…" he tried to catch his breath, "we must leave this place and pursue my father."

"Connor, your daddy ain't been your daddy since the French and Indian War."

"So that's it? My welfare is what troubles you?"

"_Duh_. I wished he pulled the trigger. _I wished he did_."

"That is ridiculous. He is no friend nor can I say I like the man, but he is still my father." She shook her head and walked closer to him. He was soaked in blood across his whole torso, some of it being his own.

"So what you're saying is that you're gonna give this guy a chance? Okay, you know what? Do you because you never like to listen to me. Go back to your daddy."

"Return to Homestead if he bothers you so much."

"Fuck you."

"You're impossible. I am going to New York."

"Looking like you just came back from the slaughterhouse? Hell no. We're _both_ going home. Then we're _both_ taking a bath _and then _we'll meet with your dead-beat dad—"he took her by the arm and she hastily shut her mouth when he glared at her. At that point, she secretly believed what Angie said of them acting like a worn out couple when they've just begun. "Or we can just go to New York like you want."

"Enough of your insufferable behavior. You constantly forget—this is no longer the days of our training, Tsipporah! Your ranting must end."

"I know! And every time you show these guys mercy, something bad happens. The last thing I want from you is a bad choice, a burned down village, and everything for naught! I swore an oath to not let you do anything that might endanger others. And you have some nerve insulting Achilles the way you did. I planned to postpone your judgment so that you could kill Hickey and the old man agreed to help! Be a little grateful that some people who don't believe in you are starting to." Her chest heaved a raspy breath and the assassin lowered his hand, releasing her arm. He scoffed and walked the opposite direction of her, jumping into the trees in search of a shortcut. The novice stomped her feet in the winter cold. This guy is impossible to deal with—too damn obdurate to reason with. It was sickening to endure. These were the seldom moments where she truly felt like she was babysitting. No wonder Haytham was treating him like a child. The very thought of it made her want to belay all the sweet things she was planning to tell him, even the things she had said before. Her body turned in order to catch up to him, but when she did, he barely looked at her. The quietness puzzled her—not knowing whether he was out of words or just plainly angered by hers. The novice won't apologize, neither would the assassin. Most of what he spat out was true that the old man failed the Brotherhood. However, the young woman could not completely agree because she knew nothing about Achilles; why he retired, and why he'd rather let himself waste away… there had to be some reason. Until she knew, she can't point fingers ignorantly. The same can be said for Haytham.

* * *

In an old, burnt down estate, a young man of blonde hair and ruined clothes entered in. he stepped lightly as he drank in the scenery of what was. Shambles of debris were within in sightline and little sunlight peeked through the shredded blinds of the shattered windows. He would venture up the stairs, but that would be proven a perilous climb. There were only two stories of nothing but ashes—ashes of the past. He knelt to the floor, looking at a broken frame with a fair-sized painting chipping away. The painting itself was still recognizable. There were flowers surrounding a family of five. He bit his lip until it bled, not wanting to see into the picture's detail; afraid of seeing the past again and regretting it. Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder and the young man jerked away, ready to defend himself until he looked upon the face of his "attacker".

"Oh…" he sighed in relief, "It's just you, Angie. I thought you were still in Homestead." She taunted him with a wry smile and put her hands on her hips.

"You think I would sit there biting my nails. I was sort of worried about you, actually. You never come to visit so often anymore, Fillan." He hasn't turned his attention to her ever since what has happened with the novice and his boss. He figured that it wasn't his business to deal with higher power, but it also brought up some conflicted feelings about how 'fair' his lover was and his own sister put her in danger. On top of that, Gillan killed their parents in cold blood; she barely held a hint of shame. No doubt she murdered their baby brother as well for his death was very farfetched. How does a baby even fall off the roof accidentally? Fillan shut his eyes tightly before punching the ground in forced haymaker. The impact shook the floor, startling even the blonde as the other pulled his bloodied fist from the broken glass and wood.

"Fillan! Stop!" she threw herself at him, wrapping her slender arms around him in hopes of him calming down, "It's not your fault for what happened!"

"You don't understand, love, I defended her this whole time!" he shouted, "Every time, I thought these were just accidents that didn't add up. I was so blind… and because of that… I almost lost you as well. Your blood was to be on my hands and I would shield my sister like the fool I am. She used me. And I let her." He swallowed to avoid welling up with tears. Angie's embrace faltered, but then she held him tighter, burying her face into his shoulder.

"Don't be stupid, baby," she muffled, "You were kind and she took advantage of it, but she's still your sister."

"No…" his breathing picked up, "She dropped our baby brother from the roof! She had our parents go riot on King Street! It was all a set up! And now… I could've ended up holding your corpse or you with your friend's. I would fail Connor and the Brotherhood—"

"Enough of this self-pity bullshit, babe. You know the truth now, so stop saying it's your fault already. This isn't you. The Templars have a way of manipulating people. We still have our sanity and free will, yet it seems that humans like us are still falling for their supposed 'innocence'."

"Did you come here just to lift my spirits, love, or you just wanted what was in my trousers?" he gave a sad smile looking at Angie. He knew; every time they were together, all she wanted to do was lay down him. It was one of the typical things done with him. She grimaced and pushed him back, standing to her feet. A rough scoff escaped her lips and fury grew in her eyes. Why would he say such a thing? "So you really think much more of me than just my body then…"

"Of course I did. Someone once told me that I'll end up finding someone like you and she was right. Sad that when I leave, you'll be left behind, but I can't just leave you with a tragedy and I say nothing about it or try to cheer you up. I meant it when I said it the first time: I love you. Your sister doesn't scare me. Doesn't change the fact that I'm the coward, though." She scratched her head darted her eyes to search the room. Nothing like this has ever happened to her or the friends she knew from her home. Sure there were many disasters in the century, but it never affected her directly. She wasn't sure how to react—how to comfort him when he lost everything and was too blind to see until now. Fillan stood up, rubbing his knuckles in frustration. He took in a lung full of air.

"I need to be stronger—not just for you for but for me. I cannot let you be my sister's next victim."

"I'm not gonna die, baby," she tried to smile for his sake. The both of them can't be depressed. "She can try all she wants, but I—"

"I know you are strong because you have to be, but so do I. Men are supposed to support women—it is our role."

"Since when are you so caring about a girl's well-being?" she sassed, but the Robber took her by her sides for her to know that he was no longer playing around. "Fillan?"

"My skills can be more useful than just stealing and smuggling, Emily," he brought her close to his face—close enough that she couldn't turn away, "I want to be useful to the Brotherhood for once. I cannot fail you or the big boss." Angie's lips parted as his was only a few inches away. She saw it in his eyes: a desire to grow, an ember wishing to go ablaze. He didn't want to be obscured of the truth of the world for he's already seen so much. The spirits were before him, his sister betrayed him, and a fire broke out, burning down their old home in New York. Most likely he'll have to officially move in to live with the residents of Homestead. The harsh realization of his struggle tore out the blonde's heart and painfully grinded it into the debris-soaked ground. It froze her nerves from wanting to embrace him with pity. She wasn't too keen on trying to cheer him up—she was always bad at those methods. Trying them would result in an off-putting outcome. Her eyes turned away, but Fillan forced her to face him, loosening his grip on her side to cup her cheek.

"Will you stay by my side, love?" he whispered as his palm explored her strong jaw-line until it found its way through her locks of hair. Her chest became heavy as well as her breathing, which answered for him, so he frowned. "You will have to leave when the revolution ends… is that it?" She swallowed thickly and nodded, knowing in the depths of her being she no longer had the wanting of going back. Her home was nothing but hell—she only had one true friend in the whole world. In this time, she had many friends despite what her society labels her as. Fillan searched her face that had begun to pale at the thought of returning from whence she came. "Do you want to stay with me, love?"

Her swaying head shot up in response, hearing what she wanted to hear. This wasn't turning out as she thought she would. She thought it to be her place to cheer him up since he was feeling down. Her hands entwined with the hand cupping against her face and she smiled, nodding. There would be trouble following this notion, but she was willing to face the consequences. She would not let him suffer from the spiritual realm just as he has here. To be betrayed by family was a cruel trick of fate—an inevitable dark comedy that others watch apathetically and laugh. Well, they can laugh all they want for she had him—the person she loved dearly. Finally, a person she could love dearly as did he. His hand traced down to her collar and pulled her forward until his lips brushed along hers, suckling her bottom lip for encouragement. A giggle escaped her before gently taking him in and breaking it up.

"Come on," she invited, "We should go home. Papa-Wolf-Boss isn't gonna be so happy about you dawdling around here."

"Indeed, milady. Let's go home…"

* * *

The boss didn't seem too happy about his novice's whining, so he ordered her to return back to Homestead—end of discussion. So she did… for a few hours and waited for the shade of night to come looking for him. She knew better. The man had always given mercy and penalties—a slap on the wrist to his listed enemies before deciding to kill them. It was aggravating to watch him do it all over again, so she had the Aquilla crew on standby in case something were to happen to their beloved and well-respected captain. When she told the first-mate of their leader's whereabouts he threw a fit, barking angrily about how the Grand Master blew the Aquilla in the midst of pursuit years ago, causing the Brotherhood to lose its influence over the high seas. Their glory days were partially taken away due to such a loss and could not be easily forgiven. It was all the information she gave, however. She could not bring herself to confess that this man who overthrew the proud gathering of assassins to ruin was Connor's father, though saying such was not needed. Perhaps they would find out sooner or later, but that was another fear for another day. For now, she soared through the skies. Since she was so close to the Mohawk Valley, she thought to drop in quickly to check its current status. It then occurred to her that her lover's fears were soon becoming her own. Then again, how could they not?

The native children who had just come from the forest that evening pointed to the sky in awe as the rather unusual, large eagle steered itself and landed atop one of the longhouses of their quiet village. The gathering turned into a bit of an uproar when the eagle quickly reverted to a young woman they were very familiar with. A friendly native man looked up and raised his hand for her attention.

"Tsipporah, my friend!" Kanen'tó:kon opened his arms, ready for a greeting in response. Tsipporah smiled and leapt off the roof to meet him. Upon her landing, three small children stumbled along in order to meet her—more or less fall on her ankles. Her eyes widened, wondering who she was looking at. Their faces…

"(They have gotten so big, have they not? A shame that Ratonhnhaké:ton is not here as well. My sons have already begun to walk by themselves.)"

"Ah! Oh my God! They're so cute—wait. I-I can't stay long. I wanted to check up on the village, but—"

"Ah! Tsipporah!" Kateri walked around to see her ally, but stopped as she noticed her friend's face riddled with worry and pain. "(What is wrong? You have not come with my cousin.)" Aghanashimi had come along as well with a curious look. It was too far from being concerned for her nephew's well-being, that's for sure.

"(I am sorry, but it is nice to see you all. I must go catch up with Ratonhnhaké:ton, otherwise, he will end up in trouble.)"

"(Trouble?)" the dragon lady jerked a brow, "(What trouble?)"

"(The kind that you thought you were once rid of, Aghanashimi.)" The novice left it at that before nodding to her friends and embracing the plumpness of the babies, rustling their silky hair and climbing onto the side of the longhouse. It saddened her not to visit Clan Mother this time as she has been habitually, but there was seriously no time. Whenever she thought of Haytham, she was reminded over and over of how he had gotten Connor into trouble and couldn't care less if he lived or not. The irritation of it all was killing her, but she knew her boss would give him a chance no matter how much the man had put his life in danger. In truth, it churned her stomach in a pitiless twist. As soon as her body was in place, she inhaled to morph, thrusting herself off into the sky when her wingspan extended in the air. Below her was some ululating that rooted her on. It was something she needed right about now. Although, her mind was on other things—she had to keep eyes on her boss in case of anything happening. She promised to keep him on the right path and so she shall.

* * *

Soon they were in sight as well as the city. Thank God for the eyes of the eagle—no wonder they can find tiny mice from as high as 60 ft. it felt amazing what she could accomplish in this form, but that was also her default. Not many of the species of birds she is mimicking now were nocturnal, so she would be easily caught should she stay in this form. Tsipporah kept to the high points of the city in order to avoid curious eyes—namely Templars and better yet her boss. Considering his heritage, he would know if something is out of the ordinary when a diurnal creature of flight is swooping about in the evening. She perched herself on a high point nearest to them to watch. Looking at the two of them roof-climbing like this was rather odd, but she watched. It was like gazing at them through a screen and she was playing a video-game. The novice ruffled her feathers as they stopped on a rooftop just 40 ft. away from her place.

"Tell me something… You could have killed me when we first met—what stayed your hand?" Connor brewed his question honestly, but even the novice pondered of it as well.

"Curiosity. Any other questions?" _Curiosity? Bullshit…_

"What is it the Templars truly seek?"

"Order. Purpose. Direction. No more than that. It's your lot that means to confound with this nonsense talk of freedom. Time was, the Assassins professed in a far more sensible goal, that of peace."

"Freedom _is_ peace," Connor argued. Haytham couldn't have disagreed more and the novice saw it in his face whether she had good vision like now or not. Even with her blind-folded, she could feel it.

"Oh, no," the Templar started, "It's an invitation to chaos. Only look at this little revolution your friends have started. I have stood before the Continental Congress and listened to them stamp and shout. All in the name of liberty, but it is just noise."

"[Sorry Haytham, can't hear you over the sound of my freedom…]" she sniggered.

"And this is why you favor Lee?"

"He understands the needs of this would-be nation far than the jobbernowls who profess to represent it." And Lee also understands the definition of defaming and torture.

"It seems your tongue has tasted sour grapes. The people have made their choice—and it was Washington."

"The people chose nothing. It was done by a group of privileged cowards seeking only to enrich themselves. They convened in private and made a decision that would benefit _them_. Oh, they might have dressed it up with pretty words, but that does not make it true. The only difference, Connor—the only difference between myself and those you aid—is that I do not feign affection." Well, this is the America that she was told about ever since childhood: land of the free and home of the brave, but she was never told that the land confided in xenophobic idealism and paranoia of aliens, and the unknown. It was an unfair nightmare and false advertising to immigrants. The novice was only scratching her wing and accidentally pulled out a feather as she heard the last of the Grand Master's words. Somehow it discomforted her to hear them. They were just speaking in general, right? About the colonies and such? It was like a musket ball hit her and took flesh along with it. It may as well have pierced her lung. That last agitated wording almost sounded as if it was pointing fingers to her as well. She was his aid. Of course she's his aid, but had false emotions and care? Who does he think he is? Who does he—_oh…_

Before she knew it, Haytham had slid down the roof he was on and was down in the alleyway. Connor fixed his gloves and growled softly to himself. The novice then remembered of the curse set on both of them. Obviously, the pulling of the feather had caused some discomfort in both of them, but the pain was easily ignored because of the words that were exchanged. He followed soon after, unknowingly leaving the novice on another rooftop to lament in the somewhat-truth.

"[Who am I kidding? There're a lot of things I haven't told him. I know what's going to happen and there are other things I'm just learning about this war. What Haytham says is true about us. Maybe… I didn't need to hear it from him. I get enough of that biased shit from the old fart. Speaking of which, maybe I should go back to homestead…]" she turned aside and was ready to lift off—

"(What are you doing?)" A voice near her spoke. It was moderate and in a language she has come to speak fluently in. Her head looked to the source, not sure if she should be happy or pissed off.

"[Aghanashimi?]" Her eyes narrowed to slits, "[The hell do you want?]" She wasn't certain that the woman could understand her, but her question was quickly answered when she got punched in her beak and screeched in pain.

"(I know you've come to look for my nephew and I saw him with that man. Pity. Aren't you going to stop him?)"

"[Why? Haytham's right… I… I am not an honest person at all. I may be courageous and all, but I don't get my hopes up nor do I with anyone else. People of the the colonies who were liable white-men chose the Commander in Chief and will soon vote for him to lead the country. No one like me or you will be given the chance—not until the 20th century I believe, but… promise to not tell anybody that.]"

"I'm no fool, girl. I was an observer along with my sister. She chose to help that man and what did she receive in return? A slow and painful death with her only child watching. Me? Witnessing something worse—my only love facing the same. He protected your assassin along with our daughter. She will never recover from the scent of his as his flesh burned and melted off of his skin when she was nearly trapped under burning wood. The last thing I need is for that man to make a monster out of my nephew and you cannot allow that to happen—"

"[It won't. And I am not at liberty to either. I won't be here long enough to do so…]" The aunt rolled her eyes and took the novice by her neck, forcing her upon the native's shoulder. "[**Agh!** What are you doing?! Please stop! _Please_!]"

"How my nephew has come to love such a foolish woman—I will never know. We are watching the two of those morons together, understood?"

"[Whatever you say]" she shook her body and sighed, "I thought all natives were respecting to nature.]"

"I'm not _all natives_, girl."

…..

They caught up with the two men, but the ride of pursuing them was nowhere near as stealthy. Aghanashimi whacked and killed as she walked, clubbing redcoats and Loyalists as the novice had to distract them as it is the only thing she could truly do aside from clawing them in the face. Her club, she claimed, belonged to her husband and was given to her as he died. She promised her daughter when she grew older and had a husband that she will pass this onto him as a blessing, but for now she would use it until peace had truly returned to her tribe. The weight of it was amazing—it had instantly killed many in seconds brutally—killing nearly fifteen men in its wake and wave. The majority would call it barbarism; Tsipporah would call it **"Boom! Headshot!"**

The commotion riled up a riot and the two heaved themselves up the roof, continuing their pursuit. Upside, they saw the men in the crevice of the alley and waited. Ahead was a brewery with some guards wandering about in alertness? Actually, it had more of a look of a fortress. The novice calculated of what was going on here; seemed like their target was here, maybe. She hopped off the native's shoulder and stepped forward on her talons, bowing her head to hear the two.

"Hold a moment," Haytham pulled the assassin's arm, "Church, you clever bastard…"

"What is it?"

"I was hoping I could wave you past the guards, but he's replaced most of them with men I don't know. Hmmm…" he tapped his chin, "Well, I should be able to pass without arousing suspicion, but you…" Haytham didn't want to risk losing Church along the way when he's so close, but Connor didn't want to be left out of it if it meant losing his target.

"No. We do this together or not at all."

"Then what do you propose?"

"I will find a guard who is off duty and take his uniform."

"Very well," the man took a seat casually, "I will wait here then."

"Of course you will—"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to come along and hold your hand, perhaps? Provide kind words of encouragement?" Connor waved his hand in annoyance as he went off to perform his deed. It was sort was entertaining to watch though, for the women. The novice giggled to herself, recalling that her own father would speak to her in such a manner, but he was more attentive. Suppose why she was so sarcastic. The native woman waited for her nephew to be out of sight before turning her attention back to the white-man below them. He hasn't changed since back then. Even with age and the events of war and carnage, he would still have his personality intact. _Pisses her off._

"Enjoying yourselves up there?" Haytham tapped on his knee, barely raising his head. Of course he knew he was being followed. He had years of experience to know. Both women dropped into the alley—the novice turned as she landed. "Well, what a pleasant surprise from the Eyes herself; good to see that you have tapped into the power that has been bestowed upon you."

"Enough with the pleasantries and the proper, sexy British accent, Haytham. What the fuck are you up to with Connor? Sure as hell don't look like bonding to me."

"You're trying to turn my nephew into one of your lowly men of dishonor?"

"A thousand apologies if spending some time with my son is somehow against parental law and principles, or does your moral compass point another way now, Ada?" The native woman grimaced and gripped the bloodied club in her hand, ready to strike him. He brandished his hidden blade, standing to her height. "We are on an important mission, Ada. Whether you are here for the sole purpose of aiding or not does not concern me, but if you stand in my way—I will not hesitate to spill every last drop of blood from that ankle-biting head of yours."

Aghanashimi sniffed with her club swaying, ready to play ball. The novice got in between them, knowing them not to have any time left before Connor would come back. "Okay, you two," she placed a hand on either chest, "Let's be adults about this and just calm down. First of all, you meant to insult everyone he aids and aids him, huh? I'm sure you should get a medal for _Father of the Year_, too?" Haytham brushed her hand off. Funny how her man was no different. "What?"

"You act as if you are something different, Eyes—"

"Tsipporah."

"You are no different at all. You and your friend who's come here will only prove to disappoint just as any other bad egg Connor has met. The truth is—and you know this—are that you will inevitably leave just as everyone else will. May it be your choice to do so or not will not matter—you will be gone by the time this revolution has expired? Most certainly," he grabbed her collar to make himself clear, "And you will feel no shame in doing so." She pushed him away not wanting the lecture to end there, but she heard footsteps and Aghanashimi took her arm. He was coming back. They had to leave. Once the two women were back on the roof, the novice pouted as the Grand Master had a satisfying look on his face. Strike one. Templar Order gets 10 points and she wasn't feeling contentment about it. It almost made her want to bang her own head open. Her train of thought ceased when she peeked down to see Connor dressed in the guard's clothing. It looked rather… plain. Haytham approached him to fix his collar for him before going to the front of the brewery.

"Hold strangers!" a guard stopped them, "You tread on private property. What business do you have here?"

"The Father of Understanding guides us."

"You, I recognize, not the savage." The women in the distance snarled at the comment. The reaction shocked the novice, since the aunt would often call her nephew a "half-breed". Guess it sounded more demeaning when the pale-faced ones say it. They had to brush it off in order to focus, but what was said next had all of them staring wide-eyed.

"He is my son," an honest hint of sincerity on Kenway's part. It can even be seen on his face. The novice felt more and more insulted every time this man would speak out and now she wanted to fade away. Simply go back to homestead. The aunt was stubborn, however. It was uncertain if she didn't trust both men, Haytham—who knows? It was clear she wasn't too fond of him. Tsipporah's chest swelled with guilt to spy on her boss like this now. Seems his father may be ill-mannered in terms of sensible goals, but was nowhere near to being a tyrant that she imagined him to be.

Connor wasn't certain how to react when he heard his father say those words aloud. After all of the twists and turns he was forced into by the hands of the Templars, his father would still accept him as family. He quietly thought that maybe… maybe peace wasn't just possible with colonies, but perhaps…

"[Agh, what do we do?]" The novice flapped frantically as the two men successfully entered. The dragon lady grabbed her by the beak until she silenced completely.

"Follow them, obviously."

"[Ok… but how?]"

The native woman looked to an area near the bricked brewery and saw an execution unfolding before the community's eyes. There were redcoats at the ready with their guns in hand to shoot down those who were accused of treason. Women shouted of their innocence, choking with tears; amongst them was a familiar face_. Just what they needed_. A wicked smile grew on the native's face—a smile that was all too proverbial, yet portentous.

* * *

The two men finally got inside, but was met with another minor problem—a locked door. The room they were in was very dark, so sneaking around here would be of little consequence. Haytham offered to unlock the door, taking out knobs and pins to set into the keyhole. He knelt down to work his way through the door as Connor leaned against the wooden wall. For the moment, it was quiet… too quiet. He should say something; he contemplated on doing so. This is the first time he and his father had ever worked together without any traps or ploys to get each other stuck in the mud. The silence was beginning to peeve him. It was usually that chatter-box of a novice that annoyed the hell out of him, but this was different. He took this time to study his father's features. He looked about the same as he did the first time he'd seen him, only now he was worn out by age if not by the persistence of war and battle. There were small scars on his face and his eyes were steeled—truly the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. It made him recall a conversation his mother and his aunt had about himself, fearing that he will have the same dark hunger as this man. No… it will never happen. His goals were different. His passion was different. He will never be like his father. By the sound of the pins digging, his father was nearly done with his work. Connor sighed deeply.

"Must be strange for you, discovering my existence as you have." His father raised his brows, a bit surprised to hear his son bring up such a subject rather than debating about the revolution. He slowed the unlocking process in order to tag along in this conversation. It brought him some sort of gladness that he was willing to talk.

"I'm actually curious to know what your mother might have said about me," he was honestly wondering. They only had few moments of privacy that they held dear to themselves, but she had to drive him out because of his title. It was to be expected. She was an observer and they rarely aid the Templars. The lock was finally undone and he got to his feet. "I always wondered what life might have been like had she and I stayed together. How is she, by the way?"

"Dead. Murdered." He got off the wall not wanting to carry this talk of the past further. It was a part of the past that he could not forget—could not escape. He had the scars to prove them. His father silently gasped to himself as if the air was banished from his body. His eyes questioned how this might have happened. What was he to say?

"… I am sorry to hear that."

"Oh, you're sorry?" Connor didn't believe that for one minute. Those years of burning hate seared his thoughts and caused his blood to boil out of his control. "I found my mother burning alive. I'll never forget her face as she sent me away. Charles Lee is responsible for her death by your order… _and you're sorry_?" Suppose he contained himself enough to not lash out on his own father, physically. As the words slipped out with pure venom and pain, he restrained himself from doing many things—shedding a tear was one of them. He had to pace around to calm himself down while Haytham rubbed his chin with an unsure rumination. This parental consolation was beginning to be verified as an intricate situation.

"That's impossible. I gave no such order. I spoke the opposite, in fact—I told them to give up the search for the Precursor Site. We were to focus on more practical pursuits—"

"It is done," he would listen no more, "and I am all out of forgiveness."

They entered the next room at last, hoping to end this quickly, but everything went wrong at every turn. As Haytham lay down the law and judgment on Church, who stood across the room… the man turned around, revealing it to not be Church at all, but a pawn. He called the rest of the mercenaries to come down to eliminate them, but there was more irritation than worry. The two men fought off their opponents who spewed away hateful, ignorant words who thought they were to be victors in the end. The Crown would protect them and thus they should do so in turn. So this is what Haytham meant by 'personal gain'. Church was officially defending the British in this war and now he was targeted by both opposing forces. The men were taken down easily and the man in disguise was interrogated thoroughly, only to be killed off by Haytham:

"_He left yesterday for Martinique. Took passage on a trading sloop called the Welcome. Loaded half its hold with the supplies he stole from the Patriots. That's all I know, I swear_."

It disappointed Connor the most that the man was not spared even after he promised that no harm would come to him should he divulge information. The left over mercenaries took up arms, aiming at the barrels of alcohol and gunpowder that blew onto the dry wooden posts, with no trouble setting the interior into a blaze. After some trouble getting to higher ground, Connor met up with his father, but they were trapped in by the flames. What to do… Haytham tested the integrity of the wooden vents of the walls, feeling that it would take some doing to pry it open to get outside. He called out to his son to try to find something to break open the wall as he pulled at the crevices. It was rather odd that the assassin was silent, so he turned his attention to him.

"Connor? What are you up to?" he saw his son in a fair distance and faced him, ready to charge? Wait… _No. Nope. __**Nope**_**!** "Oh. No. Don't do that. There's no way of knowing what's on the other siiii—"it was too late. He charged into him, breaking through the wall where they finally got outside and fell into the waters of the dock.

…

The novice hated the idea that the dragon lady had in mind. If anything she hated about the city was open conflicts. As much as she liked the social air… people here could get easily riled up into a riot and that's just what she did. She spotted an execution about to take place and took that opportunity to free the accused and condemned. The chaos was used as a shade to get around and climb in past the guards as the riot kept those in front occupied. The native had her fun with that. The people of the colonies provided such wild entertainment, but the novice would beg to differ. She should never hang out with Aghanashimi like this ever again. They only managed to get around enough to reach to the other side where the docks were. Both were a bit worried of the explosion that broke out. The aunt couldn't help but wonder if her nephew was harmed… no, she could never feel that way for that petty half-breed. Still, he was family. The novice cheered when she heard a bang from the wall and saw two figures falling into the water. The women looked at each other before going to—who they suspected to be—Connor and Haytham.

"Evening, boss!" she bragged on like a child and extended her hand to help, which he accepted half-heartedly. The smile cracked on her face when he gave her a look of dissonance for disobeying orders. She was to stay at Homestead until his work here was finished. Instead, she followed him. He suspected that she did the entire time—he knew her by now, but she hoped that he would not think of her as such. The dragon lady looked upon the Grand Master and picked up his hat from the edge of the dock without looking him in the eye; he gratefully took and waved the water off.

"So did you get Church?" Tsipporah cracked her fists, but Connor shook his head.

"He sailed away on a ship called the Welcome."

"Yes indeed. Church is at least a day on us…" he paced as he wagged his wrist of salt water, "We must move quickly if we're to catch him."

"I have a ship we can use. Meet me on the pier when you're ready."

"I called for the Aquilla to come by just in case before I came here," the novice pointed out and the assassin patted her shoulder approvingly.

"Many thanks, my friend." She felt the muscles tighten around her neck when he called her such a thing. It almost made her think about all the cold insults Haythams indirectly gave about those Connor aid. Made her want to split his head like a melon. She must have either thought too loudly or her face was showing it, but the captain lightly smacked her jaw to get her attention.

"Agh! What?"

"Fetch the lifeboat?" he repeated and she face-palmed herself.

"Right! Getting right to it! The ship should be but only a mile away from here. I should get to it. Fetch the lifeboat… right." A faux laugh was chucked out as she robotically walked over to the boardwalk, wanting desperately to hit herself on a wall for looking extremely retarded. Aghanashimi wanted no part in this reunion and went after the novice, leaving the men alone.

"So that is your observer?" his father incredulously said, "Strange as always. Apparently such an act becomes more palpable when she is in your presence. Son, this is not a befitting match."

"This is not up for discussion, father."

"Oh yes it is. To have any relationship now would be unwise. Even one with the person deemed to record your every move—a bit reckless on both your parts should something happen." His son bowed his head, crossing his arms. Haytham knew that look. "Ah, so you have learned nothing over self-control in training, I believe? All those years toppled over by the works of—"

"I will not hear such words from you about her. Our partnership and relationship is confidential. There is no reason to explain such private matters to you." He was his father, but still his enemy. He won't just spill out everything about his friends, his people… her. Haytham rolled his eyes, not sure what Connor would see in that girl. He watched from afar about how they operate. She and her free-wheeling blonde companion were loose cannons in temperate ways. They were not suited to be anyone's second pair of eyes nor were they within his taste of character. He accepted all people as long as they wouldn't stay in his way. He bailed the woman out of jail and she slapped his wrist, remaining loyal to the Brotherhood. It peeved him at first, but it seemed to be one of her noble qualities. Same went for his son.

"Well, I suppose I'll let your privacy remain as such. However, allowing you to create some feud with those of the First Civilization will be the end of you."

"It will not change my mind. She is needed here—in more ways than even I know."

"[We got a boat, boss!]" She made room by morphing and hanging onto the rail of the bow. "[Let's go! Faulkner and the others are waiting! Tired as hell, but they're waiting!]"

"Let's hurry, son. The sooner we're at sea, the better."

* * *

**Now Haytham's in the picture... this should be fun. It would be fair to drag in Aghanashimi since her and Haytham had some history together. Seems like daddy-doom hates the novice and the feeling is mutual-why not? He's the enemy. What to do... Now she's wondering if Connor is reconsidering her as his woman. NO... D:**

**We'll find out! Keep on reading, followers and viewers! ;D**


	23. Chapter 23: Relationship

_"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."_  
**Socrates**

* * *

Connor was unsure of whether his partnership of his father bodes ill or not. What he was certain was that his allies upon the Aquila were both wary and questioning—not of their captain, but their "extra baggage". Aghanashimi slept with one eye open that night, knowing full well that the man was sure to slit her throat when her guard was down. She was already starting to get the whole idea of really looking after her sister's child, but the situation was making things worse for her to adapt at last. She had hoped for years, despite her abusive treatments that her nephew would never have to meet with his father. It was inevitable because he had to kill, which was fine for her, but this is not the scenario that she had in mind. In the middle of the night, the assassin had the ship going as fast as it could for the winds were calm for the first several hours into the night. The waves were somewhat calm, so there was no trouble sailing. However, this would mean that their target must be ahead of them by a day. The Templar among them was dissatisfied with the crew's relaxed demeanor about it. They had pride in their ship as all; just pride. The novice's comments weren't so concessive in comfort either.

"Son," Haytham tried, "you'll need your energy for tomorrow. Allow me to take the wheel for a few hours. I have the experience and the proper training. And we have the same goals as of now. I see no harm in taking turns in command." Aghanashimi thinned her eyes as she leaned against one of the sail's posts on deck. There was no stopping this man. He really believed that her nephew was going to—

"Only for a few hours, father," the captain permitted and his first mate choked on his fill of rum, which the aunt quickly took from his hand to down in frustration. The whole scene made Tsipporah laugh a bit, but a Templar steering the ship for a while? She scratched her bushy hair, tapping her boss' shoulder with her free hand.

"Captain?" she gave a tight smile, trying not to look hostile; he gave her his full attention as he walked around freely. She sucked in some air in wonder of her words. Oh, yeah… "You must be out-chyo rabid-ass mind to be letting the enemy take the wheel—"

"I understand your concerns for the ship and how I run things, novice, but I am captain and you…?"

"_Do not question your authority_…" she recalled. That was one guideline she created once he had gotten the hang of sailing a ship, so there was no way she can go against it. The novice bit her lip and went to join the aunt, contemplating on downing some rum, too. She might need it for the long days of spending time with… that bastard. She cupped her hand over her mouth to amplify her voice and meant to call out to Aghanashimi, but was pulled back by the shoulders and seated on a barrel.

"I cannot have you drowning in alcohol this time, Observer. We have an important mission," Connor sat her down to keep her still and his father added.

"Oh yes. It'd be quite a mess should she get a bit too tipsy on this trip or do you allow her recklessness to come to pass, son? And she doesn't really dress like an honorable observer, Connor. The embroidery—"

"Is from your mother's chest hair!"

"Tsipporah…" he pinched the bridge of his nose and pulled her down from the barrel, "Come with me." She grunted in annoyance at first, not wanting to go anywhere now. Just how many times has this happened? He allowed and gave the enemy mercy, which they'll soon spit on, and now letting one of them control the ship. His innocent personality was starting to get the best of her. This was all plain childishness. From time to time, it would slip her mind that they both had come together… _come together_… _They only did it once haven't they_? She didn't pay attention as to where the assassin was taking her on the ship, but what she was aware of was that they haven't acted like a couple at all since that night and the few days after. The battle plans and warfare had gotten under their skin than they did for each other. If Angie saw her now, she would say that they wasted their "resting days" doing absolutely nothing productive. When the novice flashed back to reality from her thoughts, she realized that she was at the captain's office. _Huh_.

"Why are we here?" she looked around as if this was the first time being there. The only answer she received was a yawn and a bench creaking. He was… going to take a nap… really, dude? "So you're sleeping? Then why am I here?"

"I have noticed ever since we came aboard—your eyes are heavy. You must rest for a while. There is another bench parallel to this one. " He lay on his back on a wooden bench on the side and his sleeping bag under him. He then proceeded to lay his tricorne over his face and cross his arms tiredly. Sure, he was right about her eyes fluttering with fatigue; she's had trouble sleeping with all this on her head. It made her curious as to how he sleeps at night—she was just a follower. Tsipporah stretched her arms over her head, locating every knot that stemmed from her wrist to the string of muscles down her scapula. She found her neck was incredibly tense at that point, grunting at the intensity. Yeah, she should rest. Maybe she should loosen her clothes as well. All that morphing snuggled her skin to her clothes, causing her to itch all over, so she kicked off her shoes obnoxiously.

"What are you doing?" the captain murmured through his hat.

"Hey, turning into a fowl is not that fun when you have clothes on—becomes a body suit after a while and gets me all itchy. I really thought Juno turning us into eagles would be the first and last time, but no… I have to keep doing it." She sighed and plopped down on the other bench, sulking. At that moment, she swore she heard a chuckle, but brushed it off. Her eyes closed… the sleep was starting to take a while to seep in. "Hey, Connor? You still awake?"

"Immensely…" he growled.

"Sorry…" she folded her hands, "I just… What do you think of our relationship? Am I still your woman—girlfriend—lover? Whatever they call a mate down here…"

"Why do you worry for such things? You are still my woman. The people of Homestead and my people are fully aware of our relationship. And as it seems *_yawn_* as do our enemies." Of course. Of course.

"I guess I can't say much then," she fixed herself to sleep, finally, "We don't get that much free time. There's not much on the agenda for stuff like that and I am no romantic gal to tell you the truth. G'night." She put her hands behind her head while the large feathers in her hair tickled at her ear. Her nose wrinkled and the captain turned in her direction. True, they have little time for each other; the way the world was now made it difficult for the both of them to bask in levity. Even now, his father is here. The question of trusting him now reeled through his thoughts. His aunt as well—but not giving her passage would be less of an affliction for all the men. Connor grunted, realizing that fatigue was no longer coming over him and sat up, dropping the tricorne from his face. He suddenly heard the novice blurt out some words before snoring loudly. Yep. Letting her sleep here was a mistake. And since when did she snore this loud? The captain carefully walked over, wondering if she was sleeping wrong.

"You're not sleeping, Connor?" she peeked through her lashes. Ever since training, her ears had gotten more sensitive; waking to any approaching noise(s). Her alertness both planted some pride and disappointment.

"Are you really going to rest?"

"Just to get off my feet and rest my eyes…" she blinked innocently and sat up, reaching for his hand, "Sorry. I'll go if you really need to sleep." He complied with her touch, entwining his fingers in hers, willing himself not to smile like a fool.

"No. I'd rather you stay here with me." Her heart stopped. His eyes looked into hers with such determination. It let her know that he had meant every word… every word. She bit her lip and looked down, not sure of how she was going to respond to that. Her replies to romantic situations were horrible and ill-placed. Maybe because the only romantic scenario she's ever seen was with movies and video games—moments that could not be disturbed, so she made flippant remarks to ruin them. This was putting Connor in a very discomfited position. Was she speechless? Was she out of stamina? He lifted her chin to see her face and she thinned her lips.

"I'm sorry. I-I really don't know what to say back. I've _never_ had a b-boyfriend. I've never acted like this around guys at all. I just—"he placed his finger over her lips and butted foreheads with her. The novice gasped and closed her eyes on impact.

"(At least say 'I love you'; it'll put me at ease)."

"K… _Konnorónhkwa._"

He smiled, finally, and brought himself closer to her, pressing his lips against hers. Tsipporah immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and buried a hand in his hair, loving how his lips felt to hers. His were more smooth and soft, and much stronger to keep her in hold. She giggled when she tried to back out of it only to have her bottom lip caught in his teeth to drag them back in his hold. The way she would surrender to him drove him wild, but also wished she wasn't so timid when they were so close. The captain suddenly was hot under his clothes. The novice hesitated when she felt his body heat leaning on her.

"Connor… uh, your dad's here, we can't just…"

"He will be busy for the next three hours and so will we."

The next minute she wasn't too sure of, but her hands grew a mind of their own and automatically unbuttoned her captain's coat. Such an act motivated him to travel down her neck, kissing and biting as his hands massaged her sides sensually. His birth name came across her lips when she threw her head back to give him more room to please. The tension was killing them both for one to be seated down, disrobing, so they stood up to lean on the wall. Connor had his follower's hands up on either side—impatiently taking her, but she had something else in mind.

"Mmm… Captain?" she purred and he paused, "Ever heard of the drink _Sex with the Captain_?" He pulled his head back, rather afraid of where she was going to take this. His eyes narrowed in recalling her doing strange things to his nether regions that even he hasn't tried before. Celibacy wasn't exactly one of the things that concerned him, but then again… neither were the minds of women. It felt strange to ask his grandmother—and his aunt and cousin were too wily and abrasive. His mother was a far cry from loose cannon as well. However, his observer was a different story—her mentor for pleasing men was her blonde friend (to his knowledge). Knowing how long they've been together, should he be afraid of what she's been spoiling her with? The novice saw the twisting uncertainty in his face and worried. He was probably going to reject the whole act, but she can't quit the game now.

"Never heard of the drink, huh?" she kept her enthusiasm—wasn't hard to since she hung out with theatre kids. "Want me to try it first?"

"I want to try you first," he quickly said. The phrase itself surprised him, but didn't take it back; it was the truth. He felt his eyes glaze over and the novice come up to his neck, bringing her hands too his chest to open his coat up more. After their first time… Looking back on it, did she really do much? Well, except for eating his privates, but the rest was pretty rigid. She kept trying to stop him from penetrating her out of anxiety. Problem is that he's a lot bigger than her now than he was before—muscular and heavy—while she got slender and flexible over time with martial-arts training. _Goddamn puberty_.

She pulled him in closer, kissing at his ear and traveled down his chest, and abs. The feel of his firm muscles under her plump rim made her ventured core moisten. She knew to continue when Connor furled his hand in her hair with a death grip. His breathing picked up with longing, wanting her more; curious to know if she was going to stroke him as she did last time. Suppose when one gets into it, the intensity made seduction real easy.

"You want me to eat it again?"

"I'd rather be one with your flesh again." Her head backed away, grunting as she pulled down his trousers. She didn't stop until his privates were before her. Drawing these for study for five years was simple… until she saw one look back at her in the face. The flesh was promptly hard enough with a vein vividly pulsing. A lump grew in her throat and her eyes glazed over rapidly. She instantly got to her feet, trying to catch her breath as if she had just run a marathon. What she did once, she didn't have the nerve to do it again… but Connor did, wishing her to be bolder. He figured that she wouldn't this time, so he back away from her and sat back down to his bench, looking to the novice in disappointment. Seeing him button up started to scare her; wait… don't… She unlaced her bottoms with shaky hands, not wanting the night to end like this.

"So…" she sniffed, looking down, "I guess that's the end of the romantic night, huh? I'm all talk and… sorry, boss. I'll just leave you alone."

"Do you really believe I fell in love with you for your sex? Your body?" he sounded pretty offended. Should she answer him? She usually had something snarky to say, but now she wasn't confident in words alone. Her heart inflated like a balloon.

"No."

"Did you think I dragged you here for a one-sided pleasure?"

"…" _Face-palm_, "Not really, romantics were never my thing, neither was sex… until… I wanted you. And I've seen it done plenty of times and I'm still a fucking stiff about it! I don't know what I'm doing, Connor! I'm sort of losing my mind—"

"Come here." He ordered sternly, but once she came near him, he took her by the hips and sat her down on his lap. She had a mini-heart-attack when he did this because her skort was loose and slid down her ankle already, and had little time to pull it back up. "I wouldn't be doing this with you unless I… unless you were…" the words died in his mouth, but she knew. It was all Kateri innocently announced when she was with Kanen'tó kon. Up until their wedding, it was all she pined for.

"Connor… Ratonhnhaké ton, you want to build a family of your own after all this don't you?" He gave her a serious look that explained everything. He knew what would be said next—at least, he thought he knew. He expected her to get over-dramatic and throw a fit about how she wanted to go home, and not be tied down by his 'childish' notions. She stubbed a finger in his face about it once, why would now be any different? The novice got nervous straightaway when he gazed into her eyes, searching her soul. It was like looking into the future he had pictured. Nothing can be as one pictured in the present—it just can't. Whether she wanted to or not didn't matter. She'd always think too hard about it before saying something she might regret, but… what she felt was sure. She thought of him ever since they met. She yearned for him to be near; to feel the same way and he did so why…? Why the uncertainty? The captain turned away at her silence, accepting that as her answer. _No_. No. _No_. **_NO!_** He's mad again… Way to go, Sipsy. It seemed extremely strange to be half-naked on his lap now, so she shamefully got on her feet—but as she got to her feet again…

"Son, I do believe there are some stow-away passengers onboard—" he stared casually at the half-bare observer, "It seems that dignity is in short supply with this crew—"

"Haytham, what do you want?" the novice sassed.

"A moment of my son's time. A mere observer of the First Civilization such as you has no business in it. Is it alright that she remains outside of your cabin for the rest of the night, Connor?" he sat up, fixing himself.

"She has duties as the Eyes, after all. I'd prefer that she would get them done as soon as possible." She bit her lip and stopped half-way, recalling the effects of the curse. A sigh escaped her lips and went out, but not without kicking the cabin door in, creating a gaping hole.

"Well, shit, Connor! Just because I'm not so open in the bedroom and I don't put out doesn't mean you have to be an asshole about it."

"Run along, Tsipporah. Men are talking now."

"Fine, Haytham. Fine, have fun reconciling with your son." She slammed the door in the midst of frustration. Connor didn't react at all. He only rubbed the bridge of his nose and laid his forehead in his hand after. She didn't answer right away what she wanted with him while he already knew. He pictured the whole thing differently.

"Get some more rest, Connor. You'll need it." The captain only grunted. "Hmm… if it's something personal, then I shall answer it to the best of my ability." He'd rather take the risk of asking his aunt instead, but since he was offering…

"First of all, who is at the wheel?"

"Your first mate for the moment. Will that be all?"

"No," He looked up, "Is it truly impossible to… be intimate with an observer?"

"Is that a serious question? I would think you would ask of me of Church, of Charles Lee—or perhaps the end of our reign, but no… you are concerned for the deadweight."

"I am concerned for the future, father," he gritted his teeth, "she did not answer, yet my response angered her. Maybe—"

"Maybe she doesn't understand the concept of intimacy, son, or even how she can balance the ruling of the rules of the First Civilization with the rules of this world. Such things can be quite possible should the world be as it is."

"You cannot seduce me to join the order."

"Oh no, but it would appear that your observer has seduced you to confusion. Tell me, Connor, has she ever once doubted your ability to lead? To kill? To even free the world and profess the claims of liberation the colonists? Hmm… well?"

"We agreed you would take first watch of the Aquila, father."

"Oh no, business is business and I cannot walk away from an opportunity of truce. You wish to speak of this girl on a personal level, yes? Then I shall tell you something: I could not stay with my lineage being as it was and my title. Your mother was the same as well, only she chose to stay in her village and was denied her place to be the… Clan Mother of her village? Well, I've taken an important position away from her, sealed her powers—all after having you. From what I've heard, at most, she remained the same through and through."

"…Did you love her?" he slipped up. He had to know if this was just business because after discovering each other their only goal was to have each other killed. Haytham sighed and took a seat next to his son, folding his hands.

"Well… yes. Why else would we come together? We didn't do it out of obligation nor for pure pleasure—it was all personally implicated. Any man would've been lucky to have her as a wife, but we lived in two very different worlds. I had the future to consider; she had _your_ future to consider." Connor furrowed his brows. He took his tricorne that was sitting on at his side for some time and wanted to say something else. Haytham Kenway was sure being very honest and direct. His words didn't flutter or stammer as he spoke. Surely, he had some affection for his family no matter how sideways their relationship was, but to still have nerve to say that he cared was shocking. Why on earth would his observer distrust him so easily? Haytham patted his son's knee robotically. "Well, back to the shift. You'd better get some rest."

"Why did you come here?" _if he was still with Tsipporah right now…_

"Well, we've yet to talk." Connor huffed. "And your mother's sister is still as terrifying as ever. Perhaps it was better if we tie her to the front of the ship. Her anger might repel the fierce waves when a storm comes down."

…

"What the… Angie?!" The novice wasn't too happy to see her blonde friend tag along on the trip. Three women on the ship? Really? The men were forever cursed to be haunted by the band of misfits on their ship. Under the deck, some gathered to rest well as others prepped the ship to go faster since they were able to at night. It still wasn't too safe, though. They had to make way of the mines and enemy ships. The novice knocked over a barrel, thinking of how she acted and how Connor reacted. Once the barrel broke open, the blonde fell out like a newborn giraffe. It was funny at first, but then the realization that it was her friend made her even madder.

"Hey babe!"

"Why are you in here?"

"I heard you were—what's wrong?"

"Nothing…"

"Bullshit," she gestured, "I recognize that face. The "I-didn't-get-some-dick" face. Connor's not putting out, babe?" The opposite, actually.

"No… it's not him. It's me." Angie looked either side, taking her friend behind a post in wanting to hear more. She wanted to do something right for her friend, so let this be one of them.

"Tell me."

"Ooh… he wants to have a family when this whole revolution blows over. He looked me in the eye and said it, too, all while he's ready to… ready to…"

"Fuck you?"

"Ugh!" she pulled at her face, "He doesn't even call it that! He hates how I'm hesitant about getting grinded on and leaving halfway and—"

"Babe," she pouted, "You've always stopped halfway on something since the end of middle school. Your effort changed, but I guess you're still a little scared. Of what though? I thought you wanted to have kids when you grow up. Well… you're grown up, so why not ride him like a horse and marry him?" Then the novice's sighed like a distressed horse instead, looking at her friend with an indifferent expression. No way was it going down like that. She considered this man's feelings. Why shouldn't she just marry him? She loved him so much—too much. The only man since his boyhood did she ever grew to love with a passion like the ones they would show in classic old movies. Although, she came from another time and her being with him would cause a negative outcome. Juno said so. Saving his life once got her off the hook, but when she started feeling something for him, that woman in white took her vision for a week and threatened to do the same—only worse—to her "beloved" should she decide to take on such a risk. That was when she had to use her powers in order to make out the setting of everything. No one noticed her temporary blindness. _No one_. Now she was cursed again just for lying with him. And didn't Ziio die after a while, turning on the Civilization?

"I don't think it works like that, Angie. I mean, if we were in the same time, I could, but we can't."

"So then… what's your plan? You can't be so indecisive at this point, babe. Either you want to be with him or not—"

"What about my parents? My family? Everyone I know? I can't just disappear from the 21st century forever." The other couldn't have agreed more. They can't just do as they please.

"Well, that's not the point, Tsipporah Martel," it was rare for her to say her full name; not unless she was truly serious, "Either you love this man to ride or die, and be with him or you don't. It's just that simple. I think if Connor's mom was still alive, she'd knuck you in the face and tell you to make up her mind already."

"Where'd you figure that?"

"Oh, his aunt was talking about it before she took some rum from the floorboards." The novice blurted a quick laugh. Of course they hid the rum here. This is not what the captain meant when he said that he didn't want to see any more of that 'mess' onboard. Oh well, it was the fun and cunning of these men that kept her onboard aside from the travels and adventures. She rubbed her forehead and traced her hand to her hair, remembering of how the captain nearly tugged some strands out.

"How did you and Fillan come together so fast anyway?"

"He said he wanted to learn more about me and love me. Given what I do, I straddled him first, but then he said that he'll do it. I was willing, but he wanted to be on top. That's way past what we're dealing with though. I'm asking if you want to be with him and you're not being as direct as you usually are."

"It's hard to be now. I should at least apologize—"**SLAP!**

"What are you? You can't just apologize! That man wants a finalized verdict and your pussy on a silver platter—ready for harvest. Stop it with the drama, babe. You're not the type."

"I'm not the romantic type either and—stop trying to slap me! Cursed remember? Stupid ho…"

"Oh. Well, you needed one and so does he. You can't just expect everything to be hunky dory. Now get some sleep and think on it. You can't be confused and tired." She patted her knee and got up to walk and stretch around. Maybe it'd be better if she took an adult's perspective on things. She never had to deal with a problem like this before, so she never asked her parents about it. Some part of her would talk to Achilles. No, she had to rest on it. There was no need to decide what to do or say right away. She had the whole trip and they were here to capture a Templar in the first place. No doubt, he would be bossed around by his father for days—Connor would. It'd be hard to imagine them as a pair for parenting: the berserker dad and the wily mother. The pairing and imagination put a smile on her face, settling her to fatigue, so she curled up and closed her eyes…

* * *

The days after were filled with sea and odd quietness. There should be man o' war ships along the coast, but nothing appeared so far. It was most suspicious. They saw no ships on the horizon; not even Church's for a while. The thought of him getting away put the sailors on edge now. They made sure that the sails were full and the Aquila was at her best. At this point, Connor would control the ship for the rest of the pursuit. Although his father did a fair job of taking the wheel, he still didn't trust him enough to habitually take turns. He wanted to see the Welcome for himself to be sure. Deep down, he knew that this would keep him away from the novice for her to watch ahead as a follower. Discomforting to know that she wasn't too sure what to do when they were alone: take a nap together, cuddle; be one… she didn't seem to know. The future didn't come to mind either for her, it seems. She had goals, but perhaps that was when she was home where she came from. He expected more from her. He expected a direct answer, but she didn't know what to say anymore. Was she questioning this relationship as well? The thought of her going back and not saying goodbye again made him anxious.

His aunt rose from the floors below, looking up at the blue sky filled with gulls. A devious smile grew across her face when she looked at her nephew in the eye… and frowned when she found who else was walking around.

"You are still here, white-man?" she spat at the sight of him.

"Ada, let's be mature about this. We both haven't acted as we should in terms of caring for family. And from what I hear, Connor was better off being sent to the gallows than dealing with you for a minute." She stomped over to him in a masculine manner until their noses were inches apart. A snarl sounded from her throat as she looked him in the eye, mentally murdering him. "Do you plan on killing me here or do you prefer a proper duel?"

"I'd prefer you—"

"_Enough_." The captain demanded, "I will not have you hurt him, Aghanashimi."

"No, I would not hurt him. Kill him, yes. I'd kill him."

"Please," he scoffed, "You failed the last—what was it—twenty times?"

"Shut up!" she swung her husband's club and Haytham ducked, grabbing her ankle and flipping her in the process. The air escaped her lungs as she hit the wooden floor, but she was tenacious. She jumped back on her feet and leapt onto his back, locking her legs around his torso. "I'll show you for misplacing my sister's place for Clan Mother!" Just as she was about to land a blow, the two observers came out from below, distracting her for a minute. Angie sighed upon finding out what the commotion was about, so she intervened. She pulled off her leather gloves; if this was to work, her hands had to be bare. Her nails instantly came aglow, and she pointed at the two, freezing them in time.

"Um… you guys really need to stop," the blonde fussed, "We can't have you seek out vengeance, lady. Sorry." She grunted again, pulling them apart. Haytham sighed in relief.

"How dare you interfere!" the native woman complained, "I shall pound you in your sleep, girl!"

"Hey, man," Tsipporah retorted, "You can't just decide when you're gonna kill this man. It's not your job." The native was freed from control and confronted the novice now, not happy about… actually, she's like this every morning according to Connor. "Don't look at me like that. What?"

"You are letting him live?" Aghanashimi wanted to throttle her.

"It's not up to me really, so…"

"How thoughtful, deadweight. I was sure that you despised me."

"No, I really hate you. I mean, knowing that we're breathing in the same space is unsettling. I had to sleep while you were steering the ship. Pisses me off… it… it makes my balls itch, basically." The crewmen around them laughed heartily. Comparing her lady-parts to a man's always entertaining for them. Haytham sniffed and turned on his heel, walking back to his son.

"Indecisive and gender-confused. Son, why do you surround yourself with strange women? She can barely muster three meaningful words to you in the morning."

"I got three meaningful words for you, daddy-o—_EAT A DICK_!" the novice shouted and the blonde pulled her aside, wondering what's gotten into her friend. She dragged her to the bow about not wanting to piss off Connor now that they're on the wrong page. As it seems—as she gathered from Faulkner last night—Tsipporah had the worst luck with the captain every time they were together on board. It may be because she loses all femininity when she's on a boat because it was always like this at the beach in 21st century Florida. Every time she's on any boat, she boasts about having the "biggest dick". The memory of it made her laugh every time, but this was serious.

"Babe, stop trying to fuck things up for yourself. That is a good man and I won't have you lose him; especially when he loves you so much."

"No way," she sulked, "We fight more than we make up."

"…Maybe it really is because you're a Sagittarius and he's a Scorpio."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Both signs aren't compatible with each other. It's like fire and water; you're out of control and he's smooth, and steady. From what I read—"

"No. Stop."

"Shut up. From what I recall, as long as you cool down for a moment and let him understand you—because baby, you are strange. Not even tomboy-strange; just straight up strange to deal with. Stop saying you have a penis. I'm sure he made a bitch out of you when you had sex and you chickened out when he bucked you—stop saying you have a penis."

"You stop talking about sex in front of sailors. I can't have a serious conversation with you unless it has men or genitals in it."

"That's not true."

"Well, the sky is clear and the ocean is fairly calm. Do you think we're in for a storm, blondie?"

"Best time to get laid because the boat'll—_shit_."

"See what I mean." She morphed and flew to the rail of the ship to get a better view of the horizon. The novice felt very lost in her choice of words. They come out wrong at most times when she thinks too much or too little. That part of her hasn't changed, unfortunately. The salty-sea air brewed and swayed, guiding the ship along the coast until they reached the Caribbean after thirty minutes. Here, the young woman felt more at home than the stifling winters of the north. The tropical islands are where she belonged. Made her wonder if she could see how Tortuga looked right now. According to historical documentation, her hometown was full of pirates at this time. Nope. Haytham would be given a reason to see her more of a simpleton, but whatever. He already disliked her from the very beginning. _Then she thought back on the labels on the crates in the storage room of the camp… _

Connor and Haytham debated the matters of who should be steering the ship until the sun reached overhead. Sometimes, Aghanashimi would join in just to shut them both up while downing some alcoholic drink. Before the afternoon was finished, one wondered if she was adopting Faulkner's habits since they've been content with each other since the Christmas parties. It was strange thought, but at least it kept her from putting her hands on anyone; still made her unapproachable though. The captain started to weave the ship in through the rocky cliffs while the Templar Grand Master continued to look down on his skills as a captain. For once, it was getting on the native woman's nerves. After smacking her lips, she came up to him, jumping onto the railing to look down on him.

"Why don't you return to your 'proper place' if you are here to criticize my nephew, Englishman?" she hissed in her stupor, "If I hear anymore from you—"

"Hmm, you'll what?" he tried her, "Bludgeon me with that toy of yours?"

"Expect no less, pale-faced demon…"

"Ship ho!" one of the gunmen shouted, pointing to a docked ship to the right that was near a cavern. The native woman jumped from the rail near the wheel and looked to the side as the other two girls did. The novice morphed to ready herself to fly ahead. She was a tad bit hungry, though, for her constant musings kept her from consuming anything of food and drink. Apparently, the same fell to her captain as the pain of hunger was twice the affliction. It didn't bother them both now that Church was certainly close by. Connor rowed in, calling for no sail as they took a closer look. The novice flew forward to scout its contents, but found nothing. The deck was empty and lacked sufficient supplies. There were crates on top deck, but they were barren. There were more labels marking them that caught her attention. Just as she thought, they were the exact same ones that Church's men had in storage in the forests of Pennsylvania marked to go to the same location. Her third-eye senses didn't pick up anything below deck either, so she flew back and turned, landing on the Aquila's rail.

"You're right, captain. Empty. Supplies, too."

"Church always was a slippery bastard," Haytham pointed out, "If I cannot find anything, then most certainly you can't either. I would not set the bar so high about your factor anyway."

"Father, she is a loyal follower."

"She is a loyal deadweight, son. Nothing more. You'll understand someday, but if you were to rid yourself of her now, you'll see that you had absolutely no need of her."

"Enemy ahead!" the men shouted, "They're making to flee!"

Connor yelled orders to follow them and to take up arms. In a matter of minutes, the quiet afternoon had taken a turn for the worst. Men scurried back and forth to load the cannons and swivel guns. The leading gunmen had the storage of bayonets set for when they would have to board a ship when necessary. Everyone busied themselves with having to take down some enemy ships, but the women were… pretty chill about it. Well, they were until the captain had to make a risky turn, churning his aunt's stomach the wrong way in the process and she threw her head over the rail, nearly falling off the ship. Tsipporah and Angie had to act quickly; the rogue wind did not help in the slightest. And to make matters escalate from bad to worse, the enemy prepped and fired. Connor called to take cover, but the women were still occupied. The novice saw what peril she was in for when she felt the brush of iron flinging itself only few inches from her face. The brush of it stupefied her, causing to lose her hold on the native woman's loose clothing, dropping her overboard.

"Man overboard!" a sailor called in the midst of enemy fire.

"Take the wheel, Mr. Faulkner!" the captain leapt from the edge of the ship and dove into the water and searched for his spiteful aunt, wherever she may be. In a short amount of time, he found her trying to reach the surface, but her footwear was snagged onto the wooden planking of the ship, tossing her in the current. Battling the water's force, the assassin freed her of the Aquila's grasp and moved the both of them to break to the surface to breath.

"Grab a hold of this!" Haytham tossed a rope with the observers holding the rest behind him as well as available crewmen. They latched on and jumped onboard, but Aghanashimi coughed and pursed her lips. The Templar took her aside and the captain ordered for the men to take her below deck to rest. As soon as she was moved, the men went back to retaliate to rid themselves of risk of taking damage. Two ships fell to their cannons and then there it was—Church's rendezvous ship. The novice saw the name on the crates, the imports—it was definitely him.

"Captain! **It's Church!** That merchant ship over there!" the novice incited.

"_Full-sail_! We need full-sail!" he spun the ship to face their cannons to the enemy ship to clear the obstacles. The Schooner was behind the line of man o' war ships for coverage. _How annoying_. Most likely the cargo was there. Damaging the ship itself was way out of the question. They had to blow off the opposition first. This was sure to be a long day.

"Hurry, son! We won't get a second chance at this!" Haytham urged him to gain speed, but this was as fast as the wind could take them. The merchant ship in size took the liberty of going under an arch of rocks in order to lose the Aquila. Due to its enormous form, it could not follow, so they had to circle 'round. "God-damn it! We're going to lose him!" Contrarily, they were close because of the current. If the novice recalled anything of home, it's that the currents in these parts that sped up sailing or cruises. The enemy ships were down, but a stubborn one remained. Worse possible issue was that it was heading for the ship to ram it.

"I got this, Captain!" Angie held out her hand and the sails of their opposition snapped off like twigs, but she wasn't finished. She then narrowed her eyes to focus and the ship tipped on its side, beginning to sink.

"What did you do?!" Tsipporah gasped.

"Increased the density. It can't float on water at this rate." As she spoke, the chain cannons that were left cut the sails of the Schooner, ending the chase at last.

"Men, prepare to board—" Haytham pushed the captain aside. Now that Church was in his grasp, he wasn't going to let his son get in the way. The novice caught Connor halfway, hoping he wouldn't go overboard as his aunt did. The Grand Master was going to end this ridiculous goose chase. Church had set him on edge long enough. He abandoned his principles in order to pursue personal gain. All he knew is that he left in order to serve the British—the Crown. The very thought of his British brother turning on the Templar Order made his blood simmer with rage. He wanted to slit his throat, to spill his blood, to watch him bleed until there was nothing left. If he wouldn't respect the way of the Order, then he belonged to no other brotherhood. The Grand Master took the wheel and charged the Aquila into the Schooner. The rest of the crewmen leapt to the merchant ship to kill off its henchmen. Haytham jumped on the first chance he got. Connor followed as the rest secured the ship and the novice came after.

"Captain!" she ran until she was beside him, "Haytham. Where'd that douche go?"

"I must get below deck. Who knows what madness my father intends…" he responded as if he did not hear her voice speak out to him. Stopping his father and Church was the only thing his mind drifted to. They would have to eliminate the Schooner's captain first. This silent-and-ignore treatment was starting to get on her nerves. How long was he planning on acting like she wasn't there? The thought of him actually heeding his father's words sent her up the wall. Hell, let's get it over with. Tsipporah got ahead of the captain as he fended off some more red-sailors. She walked up to the captain with bestial eyes. He readied his sword to cut her down, but as soon as the sword came in contact with her skin, it disintegrated into dust and data particles. It was taken even further when she tapped his forehead and whispered eerily to "_Disappear_"… and he did before the men's very eyes.

Her murderous thoughts were canceled out when she sensed her boss get below deck and immediately went down.

…..

"Connor?"

"_Quiet_." Right. There were voices in the distance—obviously Haytham and Church. The noises moved their feet to come in further. She had to see this. It had to be Connor to kill Church and not the Grand Master himself. They walked down until they were met with a door where Haytham's voice became loud and clear. What bothered him more was that he didn't see the cargo from Washington's camp. He curled his lip in frustration.

"Empty… What has Church done with the cargo?"

"Didn't you search the labels, boss? They're—"they heard a punch land against something. Sounded like a murder going on in there. "Oy vey… boss?"

"I'm on it," he kicked the door open and found his father giving his target a ground pound for his life. "Enough!" and his father complied. "We came here for a reason."

"Different reasons, it seems," he laid another one on Church before stepping aside. He gave a look to the novice, degrading her immensely. "Still here?"

"Still queer?" Connor bumped her shoulder a little too rough and she quieted down as he knelt to his target. Man, did daddy-doom do a number on him… He eye was shined black and his face was sprayed with his own blood. If anything, this guy can take a hit.

"Where are the supplies you stole?"

"Go to hell, "was all he grunted as his rebel act was still up. The comment did not sit well with the captain. He brandished his hidden switch-blade, stabbing the man's side. It looked pretty fatal, too. The novice took this moment to expand the Passage Field, purposely blocking Haytham out of it. She had enough of his nonsense. Why should he be a part of this anyway?

"I ask again: where are the supplies?"

"On the island yonder, awaiting pickup, but you've no right to it; it isn't yours."

"No, not mine. Those supplies are meant for men and women who believe in something bigger than themselves. Who fight and die that one day they might be free from tyranny such as yours."

"Are these the same men and women who fight with muskets forged from British steel? Who binds their wounds with bandages sewn by British hands? How convenient for them. We do the work. They reap the rewards."

"You spin a story to excuse your crimes. As though you're the innocent one and they the thieves." The novice bit her tongue, desperate to keep quiet. There he was again… talking as if everyone was as good and honest like him. What she thought of America was exactly what Benjamin Church was putting into words. Her face churned as if she was the one making statements. He spoke of how there was no path in life that's right and fair and does no harm. Same reason why she didn't listen to Juno as much, too. Who's to say that following her heart would hurt just about everyone. Saying nothing did more than enough damage. The man continued his speech, highlighting on how naïve the assassin was and pulled up the observer's task watching him; comparing it to strictly "baby-sitting" the Brotherhood and dealing with their ignorant ways when they themselves tire of the old ways. The novice choked as the Templar's breath finally left him.

"(Your words may have been sincere, but that does not make them true.)" The Passage Field became the room they were in before with Haytham waiting. He raised his brows and went out the door saying nothing. The young woman felt a bit frozen, wanting to say something, but her own body refused to. That had to stop. All those years fighting and words had given her a moment to pause. She inhaled sharply and walked beside the captain with her chin up. She was no tool. She was no baby-sitter for anyone. Church went too far on calling on her boss to say he was right. Who is right? The British? The Americans? The Templar Order? The Assassin Brotherhood? _The First Civilization_…?

* * *

The Aquila parked on the island and the crewmen fetched the supplies that were on the beach. On some beach, actually. The labels, according to the novice, were signifying that the crates were on the beach of Tortuga, waiting for British pickup. She urged the captain to hurry and retrieve them since they were not too far from the beach itself. The islands were full of pirate trade and illegal activity. Should they fall to the hands of black-market rats, the will never see those crates ever again. They tread around the beach until they were near the port, and how they were near. Even in broad daylight, the bars afar were loud and brimming with drunken sailors and salty women cackling. The only one happy about it was some rubber-necked seamen and the first mate. Oh… the women, too.

"Found the supplies!" the young woman boasted, "And a whole bunch of coconut trees!" she ran up and climbed it, shaking it in the process and yelling for the ripened ones to fall and Angie promptly caught them as they fell.

"Tsipporah, get down here this instant. You will help these men carry the cargo back to the ship."

"I'm gathering nutritious food and drinks, boss."

"Gather them when you've help the men."

"Fine, but you're having a coconut after I help."

Aghanashimi sat on the sand not wanting to be inside the ship's hold much longer. She watched as the men went back and forth working, and the novice had to join in order to have her stop for a drink. The Templar carried supplies as well and the two made eye contact for a short time before turning in a scoff. When the blonde saw that, she laughed her ass off, reluctantly carrying supplies up and down. Once the men were done, Haytham proclaimed that they should be off to go back up north. The novice was unplausive, grunting and running back to the coconut tree.

"No…" she enunciated, "Crew's eating coconuts."

"Why can you not pack them instead?"

"Shut up, boss; kill yourself. I'm cutting open a ball of electrolyte potassium for everyone. Good for hydration. You, daddy-doom, and the native aunt from the bowels of hell get one first."

"And why is that?" Haytham crossed his arms.

"Because at some point, you've all manage to get me on my ass; if not by trying to kill me. Here." She took her elbow blade and broke the green shell at the tip and handed it to Connor. As much as he's been to the islands, it was mostly for the sake of finding his targets or defending a port city. The most he's eaten and drink was water provided from untouched rivers and streams and hunted animals for their meat. Both he and his father took the strange fruit and sniffed it. The two natives took to drinking it, but Haytham stared with ambiguity.

"_Jesus_, just drink it. It's water. There's no assassin hiding in there to kill you."

"Very funny," he downed the drink and raised a brow, approving of the taste. The novice clapped.

"And now you guys are officially hydrated," she held up two more with Angie, "Now who wants some more?!" The men who were either curious or in want of its taste came round, breaking the fruit and consuming its filling. They cheered feeling more rejuvenated than what the strong drinks aboard were treating them. Such a fruit should be traded much more often. It would be nice to spend the rest of the afternoon here, but they had to go meet with Washington to return his supplies at his encampment. Saddening to know their time was short and the captain was determined to get those crates returned as soon as possible. Fortunately for the novice, there was a problem. Haytham's recklessness cost the Aquila its side and caused some damage to the ship. Aghanashimi threw a used up coconut shell at him for such an act. Now they would have to spend the night at the beach until the wood would be replaced. Faulkner knew just who to get in order for repairs to go smoothly. Whoever it was, Connor was willing to pay, but Haytham insisted on paying instead. So here they were… a little stranded. Since there was little to do left but wait, Angie decided to keep the men entertained.

"Ok men, born October 23rd through November 21st." Angie called out as some of the guys were sitting down in a circle and she read through her horoscope book out of boredom. "Scorpio—_This is a Scorpio man's mask; the outer shell that contains the fiery and seething volcanic force inside. If you're a sensitive person it might be a good idea to get to know the Scorpio a little before you get involved, because their passions and emotional excessiveness have been known to bring the curious to tears_. Yeah, Haytham you're right. Sounds like your son. Now let's go to you—Sagittarius." The novice wanted to bury herself in the sand to be hearing this. She was the same sign as the guy that crashed their ship? That's fantastic. Tsipporah got up from the circle and walked along the waterline bare foot, holding her boots in one arm. Looking back at the Templar, his mind was elsewhere despite being a part of the chatter. It was a little suspicious to not see him try to sneak around to speak to some followers of his. Guess he needed the break.

The sunset beamed and bathed the coast in a warm light. Just some more time and the stars could be seen. The play of shadows overtime and the pastel palette of the sky would make for a great movie—romantic one at that—but she was thinking more of painting it instead. Who would have a romantic moment with the sun blinding you? It was better at the moment of twilight where neither the sun nor moon showed for some minutes yet the stars would appear first. That's all she would wait for. Until then, the company of the tide brushing her ankles aided in clearing her mind, putting her at peace. Well… the peace was short-lived when her chest tightened at the sight of the captain only a few yards away from her. Maybe she should turn back to the ship… like… now would be nice.

"Ah, fuck, ow!" she stepped on something in the wet sand it felt pretty round, so she looked, picking it up between her toes. Half of a shell. It was still new with the texture still intact. It shined in the sunlight as if it were a pearl. "Can't tell if it's a scallop or a clam…"

"Are you alright?"

"…Oh. Evening, captain."

"…And to you as well." He scratched his chin, unsure of what to say next. For once, his partner had nothing to say to him and once again, he was hoping it wasn't her bi-polar act creeping up again. "Should I be concerned of your silence?"

"I dunno, boss. I'm the indecisive one, remember?" Of course.

"You misconstrue. I did not say you are uncertain of anything."

"Then what am I?" she let the sun come over her eyes and saw more of his when she looked up. The hues of the skies danced in his iris and the natural lighting made it all even more breathtaking. The way the warmth of the departing sun traced the firm curves of his face. She was almost tempted to reach out to him.

"Did you really want me to stay?" he was starting to furl in his emotions again, thinking she was going to tease again. She fiddled with the shell in her hand. Staying here in the 18th century was no option. Once it was all over—once he was finished, not only would she return home, but everything would return the way it was. Juno said the future would be changed into something better should they succeed; should Connor succeed. He furrowed his brows at her words.

"I desire many things—amongst them were you staying here with me, but it seems that such a notion cannot come to pass."

"And I can't escape wanting you… or to be with you for that matter. I wish things were just that simple, but… I can't leave the people I have back home like you can't leave the people you have back home. And even if I chose to stay, Juno will take me back. It's hard to decide—_eep_!" He pulled her into an embrace as if she was going to disappear tomorrow or right now. The pull itself caught her off guard and breaking out of his arms wasn't happening, but then again it was quite snug. His arms felt very protective and strong. She couldn't help but return the affection.

"Connor," she looked up the best she could, "at least know that whatever happens, you're the only person I'll truly love." He loosened the embrace to look into her face. "Boss?" For once, he looked like he'd just caught a stomach virus. She hoped it was just her imagination because he hasn't broadened his range of emotions like this since he first got a pair of hidden blades.

"To know you as long as I have is not enough."

"Connor…" she cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb along his lip.

"Yet in the end it will have to be the Templars or you. For them to die and their order crumbling would win everyone freedom."

"Then don't wait, you fucking baby. We're at the climax of the century."

"What would you have me do? Have you stay here with me and forget the life you had before?"

"You don't know what kind of life I had before, but it was the result of your efforts for freedom—I'm sure. Because every day I woke up in the 21st century, I am safe and could do anything, and no one would down on me because I'm a woman or because I'm black, but I was alone. No matter how many people were around me, I wasn't brave or courageous or any of the things you tell your other allies of me."

"That was in the past and you having changed for the greater good. To lose you now would be a boon for us both—the curse will lift and my people will remain safe." His hold was dropped from her and he paced a little, fixing his gloves. "You would return home safely and this country will be free of tyranny…"

"And you? What about you?"He stopped in mid-step and looked at the novice with wild eyes; his face void of emotion. " …You won't be happy, will you?"

"Knowing that everyone here has gained independence is my satisfaction."

"That's only half of the truth with you, Connor."

"You are starting to sound like the old man. I have given you the truth."

"No you haven't! If that's how you feel, then what am I to you now?! Because I childishly thought you could be something more than a lover to me!"

He swiftly grabbed her by the collar, pinning her to the sandy ground. The unique seashell fell from her hands as she was trapped under his overwhelming grip. This time, she did not resist or try to fend him off—only gazing into his eyes, searching for his answer. A gentle breath of the setting sun made its way to them and the palette of the sky slowly changed, revealing faint stars overhead. The novice shifted her attention to the sky as Mother Nature painted with a new hue, but the captain had gotten closer, digging his forearms into the ground on either side of her. He then lowered his head to reach her ear.

"To have and to wed you… would be my greatest joy."

"Because we have a history?" it sounded more of sass, but romance was completely out her reach. She felt him smile against her cheek and she shuddered.

_"Because I love you."_ And he lifted himself until he was pressing his lips to hers. Tsipporah pulled him down further that she may return the favor, taking in all of his tenderness…

* * *

**Sex on the beach! :D No, I'm kidding. Could never write a scene like that-too much sand involved. Ew. Anyway, everyone's going home soon and Connor probably gonna regret teaming up with his father, but the OC won't mind the whole teaming up thing. I mean, should you deprive your love of seeing the only close parent they have when yours is centuries away? Well, his aunt clearly doesn't give two fucks... until she's rescued from drowning. **

**Oh yeah! Have a coconut! XD**

**Just kidding, but Now just a few more chapters left... until... ok, to be honest; the ending to the game was a little too anti-climactic for me. I'll just spice it up a little to what I thought it was going to be like, but keeping the scene in place. So thank you for reading this fair guys! See you in the next chapter! :D**


	24. Chapter 24: Parenthood

_"Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks."_  
**Plutarch**

* * *

_"I will have to kill them all… even my father." He said with conviction._

_Tsipporah held her cheek, breathing carefully and hissing at the sinking pain. She saw the wall of the templars. Taking Ratonhnhaké:ton's word for it, she saw his father. He looked just like him. In fact, it explained why he didn't look very native… he was half-British? The pain did not seem much of a grating subject anymore._

_"You're… half-British?" she managed, sucking her teeth. He nodded stiffly._

_"My mother told me long ago. Who my father was… and why he had come to our village, but…" he choked._

_"She's dead…?" her eyes widened. He gave a strong gaze that answered everything. Tsipporah lowered her hand from her face and felt guilt rising in her. Recalling a slang-related insult to his mother, she wanted to apologize, but the old man had cut in._

_"You two get some rest. The training will start for you tomorrow, "he pointed at the 'tree-hugger'. Ratonhnhaké:ton put his hand against the girl's back and they both went up the stairs. Every creak had them on edge, since they were told that the house was falling apart. Fortunately, there were separate rooms across from each other._

_"Well… g'night. At least we're not in the stables anymore, right?"_

_Ratonhnhaké:ton gave her a long stare as he stepped to his designated door, never taking his eyes off of her. The girl furrowed her brows and really wanted to break the silence… badly._

_"I'll sleep off the pain. Heh, don't worry about it. I hope your cheek gets better. Night!" she opened and closed the bedroom door. 'God, that boy is fine,' she scrambled to the canopy bed and shut her eyes tightly to rest. The young boy on the other hand still stood at his door, but eventually went into his room. There was much to think about and much to do. The old man explained everything. The words in the tale he had spoken to them still boggled his mind. So he was an Assassin and the girl an observer—the Eyes of the First Civilization. Everything he does now will be recorded for his descendants to follow. At least, to the Brotherhood, that is what the observers do. Their role was very secretive and clever. They had to do things a lot more carefully than that of the brotherhood. All the blood rushed to his face, pondering on how this was going to play out. A sudden, timid knock sounded on his door and he immediately turned to open it._

_"Tsipporah?" he widened the door and let her in before the old man would see, and closed it after, "You need to sleep."_

_"I know, but I can't," she complained, holding her bruised cheek. The Goth spat out a tooth after getting in the manor, still dizzy from the melee; never did she ever lose a tooth in such a violent manner before. "So as it seems, you are the hero of this epic quest and the old guy is going to be the reluctant mentor that teaches you how to shoot web, and I am the sassy tag-a-long chick that will tell you to not do stupid shit and you don't listen to me until we reach some sort of climax at some point."_

_"…" he stared at her innocently, not comprehending all that came from her mouth. She shrugged her shoulders and plopped on his bed._

_"You'll understand in the coming days, dude. Besides, I'm not sure I should be doing any of this. I mean, my parents would be pissed as hell to know that I disappeared in the middle of a field-trip." He swiftly came beside her on the canopy bed._

_"Your mother and father are unaware of your disappearance?" he sounded so worried as if this was his fault. She patted his lap to reassure him._

_"Yeah, man. I mean, I was on a field trip at the—never mind. I'll tell some other time, but… the old man sort of explained that." He did. It was normal for observers to appear through a rip in time and that is how she came to be here. That was when her heart sank even more. To know that she was centuries away from home—from family. It almost made her really sick to her stomach. Ratonhnhaké:ton saw this in her face and placed a hand on her shoulder._

_"Being away from home is difficult, I understand. I'm afraid it might stay that way for some time."_

_"No, tree-hugger. You don't understand. You weren't pulled from your time to be put in a time of war. I didn't choose this…" no, but she wished for adventure. She feared that this was the result of her strong, secret desires of 'saving the world' and 'fighting villains'. She sighed, giving up on whining. What was the point? She practically asked for this to happen. The bright side was that she had some logic on what to expect. The bandits were no surprise and the cool old dude didn't faze her so far. What's next? Actually, what's more was the early twist that reached her ears in all this. So the enemy…_

_"Have you ever met your father before?" she asked._

_"No," he folded his hands, "I've never met the man. My mother has told me all about him when I asked where he was. I was surprised to know that he was not Mohawk but English—white. After that, I… I wanted to learn how to speak their language. I came across a book that taught me words and passing white men in the forest who spoke these words, but… there was a little girl who taught me everything."_

_"A little girl?" her brows raised._

_"I cannot remember her face or her name, but all I know is that every time we were together she would wish to travel the world."_

_"She sounds fun. Maybe you'll meet her again someday."_

_"Perhaps. I am more concerned for my father." The teen twisted her lip._

_"Yeah, I don't know what to say, man, but I'm not complaining. Mixed kids are beautiful and all the same to me. Still, he's on the other side. He's your enemy right now and I've seen some ugly reunions in my day."_

_"In your day… when are you from exactly?" the question was in his head for some time. The Goth bit her nails, seeing no point in being suspenseful about her._

_"We're in the 18__th__ century. I'm from the 21__st__." His eyes widened at her answer. It almost made her want to laugh, but he was serious. To be that far in time, she must know so much about what happens here; it peaked his interest in her even more. He wanted to know more about what's there—what's beyond. She grabbed and pinched his nose in her hand, wishing he'd stop looking like he'd found something better than sliced bread. "Ok, stop staring at me like that! It's freaking me out!"_

_"Alright! I'm sorry!" he wrenched out of her grasp, "You miss it, do you not?"_

_"Yeah, but I'm not gonna have the same daddy problems you go'n have."_

_"…What's your father like, then?"_

_"…" well, since he asked, "He's, uh… ok, honestly?" he nodded, but sensed some hesitation in her voice. "Ok… um… he's a musician, he's blind… and he just loves to breed. What can I say? He even thinks I'm boring because I've never disobeyed him or disrespected him. He thinks I'm boring, but he loves me."_

_"I see…" he snickered a little. That didn't sit well with her at all._

_"Is that funny?"_

_"Yes. He claims that you are boring. You are anything but." The heat rushed to her face as he said such things. She was strange and enigmatic. There was much of her that he didn't know about, but since they were going to be together for a while, they'd better get to know each other. However, there were things he wasn't willing to divulge of himself. His emotions, for one, and she sensed it. There was so much he would show and more to hide if he was to be trained to be a one-man army. She took a glance at him, knowing that she should go back to her room. Now that she thought about it, she has never slept in her own room before. She'd always share a room with her siblings preferably. Natives were the same right? At least to her knowledge; Ratonhnhaké:ton was a rare case. She went for the door and looked over her shoulder, watching him. He seemed unaffected and detached about her leaving. Maybe he did prefer this state._

_"You sleep alone, tree-hugger? You'll be alright by yourself?"_

_"You'd better get some rest in your own bed. It's what you wanted, right?" he answered quickly and she jerked._

_"Um… yeah, good night to you, too." Unbeknownst to her, he was making sure she was walking out and she closed the door behind her. He immediately jumped off his bed to lock the door with a key he found on the bureau. Her footsteps went across the way to the other room with the room's door closing as well. He gave the door a long look and stepped away with the key in hand, plopping back on the bed. Usually, he would sleep with his mother. He didn't say much, but she understood—the words could never form, though. That girl… Tsipporah was still a stranger to him. He didn't know why he said those things to her or why he touched her in the first place. Although, never has an outsider respect his culture or his roots; she didn't even care if he was half-British or even say that he was a half-breed. She called him 'mixed', but claimed to hate people. What people?_ The kind of people he had hatred for or…?

* * *

"Son?" Haytham interrupted the youths who were just enjoying each other's company. Maybe they didn't hear him on the account that his son was still digging his fingers through the other's hair. The elder Templar sighed. "Connor? I know you hear me."

"What?" he hissed as he sat up.

"This better be good old man…" the novice kicked sand.

"Well, a thousand apologies if I was trying to save you from catching something, son."

"Say what, snowflake? You callin' me diseased? Get up, Connor. He just crossed the line!" Haytham backed up, expecting the observer to lunge at him, but his son held her back. She sighed and calmed down, burying her face into the other's shoulder. "Your dad hates me, Captain. He doesn't even call me by name. He calls me 'deadweight'—I'm surprised he hasn't pulled the 'n' word outta his ass."

"Oh, no," he tsked, "It is not racial problem I have with you. Just your ability to be an observer in itself. I did not bail you out of that filthy prison to free you—I paid to test your loyalty. And as it would seem, you've made your choice. I would think it because of your experiences, but no—it is because you… fell in love with Connor." The assassin snarled. Perhaps only one Kenway would return to New York tomorrow. "You know as well as I do that an observer that feels isn't qualified to be an observer."

"Says the guy who screwed his, too. Bet she felt the same way," she snapped. She and Connor rose to their feet, knowing that they would get no privacy any longer. The Grand Templar pushed his son aside and took the Eyes by her collar. She really wanted to bite his nose off, but he already looked pretty pissed. Laughing would have been ill-advised. He would snap her neck if he wanted to. The young assassin had his hidden blade ready if he would try anything.

"Do not even dare to **_compare_**yourself to Ziio…" he growled. Well, her boss certainly had his father's short-temper. "She was not just a mother, but a mother to her people. Unlike you, she was born to lead. You—you will never know what it is like to struggle, to suffer, to bleed for your country. And do you know why? Because you have always despised it. You care nothing for your roots or another people. Only yourself." And he threw her into the tide, but Connor caught her before she fell in, face-first. Her face wrinkled, ready to tear-up. She knew better. Someone she loved told her that there were better times to cry; now was not it. She straightened herself and brushed off excess sand off her shoulders.

"Whatever, Haytham," she scoffed, "That was all true before I met your son. I knew everything was wrong, but he gave me a reason to believe that there was something right. This is his home and I want his people to keep it, and be safe, too."

"What of your people?"

"My people have a history of struggle already. They'll be free. I know because I'm proof of it. I want his to suffer less."

"Hm? And what does that mean, 'suffer less'?" He knew that she knew something that Connor didn't and tried to pull her out of secrecy, but even she didn't know where he was going with this. It was starting to get annoying.

"I hate you. You and your sexy British accent, cape and shit." The captain finally got between them.

"Enough. She will stay with me, father. In the morning, we will leave. All of us. Whether you like it or not."

"Hell, if the captain doesn't slit your throat, the dragon lady will." Both men stayed in a deadly silence. It was true. Maybe they should leave Aghanashimi behind? The novice clapped her hands, seeing them exchange a look to spark ideas. "Hey! I know what you're thinking, but that woman is a demon—she'll kill the both of you if you try that and… oh." What she saw going on nearby made her snigger. Two figures were practically skipping to the Tortuga port area where there would be drinking, hollering, and illegal trade. "Yeah, um… Faulkner and your aunt just left to the port town, sir. And—yo! Angie! Uh-uh, hell no! Get yo' crabby ass back over here!" he blonde was dashing ahead to join the two on their exciting adventure. She ran after them as well, knowing that what was in store wasn't going to be pretty.

The captain pursed his lips and looked back at his father who turned on his heel, stating something about this not being his problem. He shrugged his shoulders. "Hey!" he spotted one of his sailors trying to sneak away, "Stay near the ship. If I catch anyone else astray—"

"Y-Yes captain!" he ran back.

"I shall keep an eye on them, I suppose. You go on and get those misfits back."

"No, you're coming with me."

"You don't trust me, son? Is that it?" he scoffed.

"No, of course I want to, but…"

"It's the women, isn't it…?" Haytham saw no problem in manhandling the first mate, but the women were more troublesome. Connor nodded and rolled his eyes. They were quite the insufferable bunch. He had to go after them. The two men went for the port town ahead where the pirates would gather. It was evening and the stars were slowly appearing. Festivities would heighten at this hour for them, which spelled trouble for the two esteemed men. Upon reaching town, chaos sounded at every corner and once in a while, a drunk would bump into them as they raised a glass along with salty women from brothels. The entirety of this place was getting under Haytham's skin a little, but he showed no care for it. He was more concerned of why they would think to even barge into a place like this in the first place. Every other corner had an uncouth settlement of dirty vagabonds cheering for their incompetence. Made his insides cringe.

"The sooner we find your comrades, the better. I do not want to stay a moment longer." His son silently agreed. "Why would your observer even bother to enthuse herself of this place?"

"_Well…_" he raised a brow, "She was born and raised here." He knew his father didn't know the whole truth about the Eyes, but this much was it. However, this place was her home more than 300 years later. Looking at the town now, though, it would be believable what with her nihilist attitude and being decorated in black skulls when they first met. Rather rough looking and boyish for a girl. The Templar cleared his throat.

"Son… this confirms all my suspicions of her."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"She's a hoodlum."

"I heard that, you crumpet-eating bastard!" her voice went off from down the lane and she weaved through the crowd until she was in front of the two. "I know you're talking about me, Haytham. That needs to stop 'fore I decide to cut your hairy beads and shove 'em in your mouth." He chuckled, knowing she won't be able to.

"Where are the others?" Connor pressed.

"In that bar over there, having drinks. They freaked out when I told them the captain's coming, which I thought it was a bluff; but, haha, the only one in there that won't be happy is your aunt. Careful, though, there are some pirates in there who's been trying to fight some guys." Both men sighed, not caring for any threat that awaited them. They took the novice by either arm and dragged her along. She couldn't say much of their likeness. It was too funny of how they were both pissed alike. When they came into the bar, violent jubilee sounded as well as some men gathering around, singing sailor songs. The novice was tempted to join—looked like fun.

"Let's just find them and leave."

The trio went through and soon found Faulkner and Aghanashimi in their sights. They were laughing and drinking, and if Connor knew any better—they were Eskimo-kissing. The novice stifled a laugh and cooed on how cute they looked together despite the scenario. Who says you can't have a romantic moment in an illegal establishment? He barged through the crowd once more before finally reaching their table, breaking up their little happy moment. The aunt barely moved.

"Nephew, can you not see that I am speaking with your mate here?"

"We have to get out of here, Aghanashimi. This place is not safe for you."

"We will leave at once, capt'in," Faulkner assured, "Come now, miss. You don't want to be here too late at night." She pulled him down back in his seat and growled.

"But I would rather talk more," she purred, "You are good company."

"I thought native women are to honor their husbands even in death…" the novice narrowed her eyes and Haytham gave up. She was by far, the most unorthodox tribal woman he's ever met. She fussed at Connor for trying to drag her out of the bar. The novice rolled her eyes and cracked the woman's neck a little. It made the young man's heart stop in time and she felt his anxiety. The dragon lady fell over, knocking drinks to the floor. She barely moved with her eyes rolled back. "Calm down, boss. I only blocked a nerve—something I learned in training. Want me to wake her up?" Both Kenways mouthed a 'no' and shook their heads, making her laugh. Haytham threw the woman over his shoulder, but bumped a vagabond while doing so.

"Hey!" he spat at the Templar's shoes. Connor, Faulkner, and Tsipporah froze, already seeing what was going to happen next. The captain ordered for them to leave, but the novice complained that she hasn't found Angie yet and—

"That is an order!"

"Okay! I'm going!" she took the first mate and went out the bar and to her surprise, there was the blonde waiting outside. "What the fuck? Where were you? I thought you were still inside!"

"I was looking for the captain because I heard his voice while I was in the bar and—"gunshots went off and they all paled. "Sipsy?"

"No, he ordered us all to go back."

"The capt'in will be fine. He's dealt with tighter knots than this." As the first mate said this, she felt the skin under her bruise. No… Yeah, she should really leave. It's not like he's gonna die. She grabbed the two and scrambled their way back to the beach to wait. It was really dark outside save for the lanterns on the Aquila in the distance. The novice was cheering inside that they were so close until she stepped on something really sharp. It felt like her foot was split open. She picked it up to look and unfortunately it was. The wound was gaping and rugged, and then she remembered… she was barefoot this whole time. The novice sucked in her teeth and the first mate picked her off the ground.

"Thanks, man," she leaned on his shoulder as he picked her off of her feet.

"Not a problem, miss."

Yes it is. Both she and Connor were cursed to feel each other's pain. She and the blonde exchanged a look, knowing full well that she and the captain were sharing the same injury right now. Tsipporah closed her eyes tightly, praying that this wouldn't hinder him from defending himself. They had nothing to worry about, right? Haytham was there. They hoped they had nothing to worry about…

….

The Assassin and the Templar stood back to back, grimacing of what's to come. The Grand Master, especially, was starting to grow a migraine, feeling that they might be here a while before getting out unscathed. The two went to work with the men around them, not wanting to spill blood in a closed space, so they resorted to using their feet and fists. Haytham put down his 'in-law' somewhere in the midst of back-handing a hooligan and went back to bloody the nose of another. Soon the entanglement had gotten worse for the entire pub was in a massive ill-advised melee. They really had to get out of there…

"Father," Connor yelled over the majority, "Head for the entrance."

"We can't, son! It's completely blocked!" he leapt over to snatch Aghanashimi in his hands and turned to go back to the captain, but not without sensing someone marked with gold on his side. This person was clad in black leather and did quite a job hiding their face, yet one could tell if they were dark in the skin. "You there!" he called after them and they dashed out of the premises. "_Son, after that stranger_!"

* * *

The Aquila was ready in the morning all while the crew was sleeping inside. When the captain came back with his father, he said nothing save for some commands to be ready to sail off. The others wondered when he came back and if he was alright, but there was no visible injury on him nor was his clothes scathed and torn. The same was said for the Templar and the native woman thrown over his shoulder. He laid her down and the novice undid the knot she did in her neck, releasing her from unconsciousness. When she woke up, she lashed out at the novice for knocking her out and gave up, wanting to go home. It was their plan. They had no more business out here in the Caribbean, so they went out to sea. The sun was still rising, so it may have been about six or seven in the morning since the stars were still out. She wrinkled her face, feeling the sting of her foot from hours ago and looked at the captain. His face was still and stern—adamant. Her foot felt like there were a thousand knives scrapping at the inner muscles with every step. She thought to maybe to just stop right now and sit it out. Best to not double the pain afflicting them.

The rest of the trip went smoothly. It was eerily quiet for the week they spent together going back up north. All there was waves crashing, orders boasting and men running back and forth. The novice stayed in the captain's quarters. She sat on a bench, breaking another coconut. Careful, she was to not spill any loose water on the floor. Once in a while she'd go out for air or leave the door open altogether, but not once did the captain come into his own office. Then again, he was quite the multitasking man on deck than bother going into his office, so she waited—just waited to go back. Maybe now she should take a nap. There was nothing else to do now. Just a few more days and they'll be home. _Home_. Did she just think of calling homestead 'home'? No, now she knew she was starting to lose her mind. She's been here for years now fighting redcoats, tailing spies, and liberating colonists. It made her appreciate her freedom in the 21st century even more. She closed her eyes, knowing that evening was going about the sky. A part of her had already reached a deep fatigue when the door opened. She thought it to be Angie since she's been poking at her about loitering around and doing nothing, so she lifted her coat over her face.

"Go away, Angie," she groaned, "I'm not bored enough to find Orion's belt in the sky with you."

"Not exactly, Eyes," an English voice said. She instantly choked and looked out of her coat to see the Grand Master hovering over her.

"Augh! No! I do not approve of this situation!"

"Calm down. I am not here to kill you… well, not yet, I suppose—but be at peace. I only wish to talk."

"Does Connor know you're in here?" she felt for her elbow blades that she let down and pressed her hand on the sheath just in case. The elderly man pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing her strong opposition. This might take some doing.

"That's aside the point, really. You've caused enough trouble to know that you're unfit to be here."

"I know that! You think I had a choice to go home? Haytham, I don't! I heard voices, I teleported here, and now I'm helping your son. Whatever happened after just happened, okay? The spirits chose me and your son. Stop blaming me."

"Oh no, I'm not blaming you. I am just here to say that you are unfit to be anyone's pair of Eyes. While you're sitting in the captain's quarters waiting to for him to come back no doubt, you are contemplating on whether to leave or not."

"I can't just leave my parents—my family. That's why. You think it was because I miss my freedom? My normal boring life? Sure, I was lucky. I just didn't appreciate like I do now. By principle, I'd rather be here and grateful about my life than to be a fussing bitch back home." He took a seat on the bench across from her.

"Well, with your loyalty in consideration, I suppose you'll think rationally on what I propose."

"Proposing what?" she furrowed her brows, ready to cut him a new one.

"That Connor stops this Assassin's Creed nonsense. Staying within the Brotherhood will do him no good. Honestly, have you ever questioned the creed to be nothing but ignorant nonsense?"

"Get the fuck outta my face, Haytham. You deal with him, not me."

"Yet you are his woman—I would think you'd care for his safety and that of his people. I thought you knew better than to just sit about the ship, doing nothing."

"Well, as you said, I am 'deadweight', man. If you don't want me getting in the way of your father-son-time, then I won't. I'm not that type of bitch, so get the hell out of my sleeping space, and let me rest. Go'n." She tugged her coat over her face, not wanting to carry the conversation. Haytham huffed and went out the door; seems that his son's stubbornness and sense of justice was contagious. Not only Connor, but now the Eyes won't listen to reason. No matter. They will find the errors in their ways. Whether he was to die by his own son's hand or not, they will find the error in their ways. Someday. The Grand Master walked below deck until he found an empty desk and sat down, taking something out. The blonde watched from behind a post. It looked like a diary of some sort. He took out a quill and a small fill of ink, and started writing. Whatever he was writing, he was getting into it, but the least she could do is give him some privacy. She turned and left to go topside where everyone else was.

Aghanashimi nosed around him, though. She was as curious as she is feisty. Her shadow kept wavering around him as he wrote and eventually gave up, knowing this woman doesn't know the meaning of 'privacy.' He gave a grunt and looked back at her.

"What? Don't mind me. Keep writing your stories."

"_Really_?" he hissed, thinking of making more uses for this quill than writing.

"I can't read some words, you fool. You are in no danger."

"Leave, Ada. I do not wish to speak to anyone else this night."

"Right," she leaned on the desk, "but I wish to ask you something."

"…" he's listening.

"Of all the times to fetch your flesh and blood—why now? You could have taken him from the village long ago and you know it. Why now?"

"That is none of your concern… now be on your way, Ada. I rather tired."

"I will. When you answer me."

"You have my answer. _Leave me_." She gave an unmoving glare for moment. He was always so enigmatic around her and her sister—or so with her. Both she and Ziio shared so many facial features: high and defined cheekbones, exact skin-tone, light brown eyes, and choice of style. Difference was that she was the taller of the two and less composed. It was a nightmare for both Kenways that not only she was abrasive, but she was the mirror-image of the woman that loved and cared for them. She was not the kind.

"Haytham, make no mistake with him—he will not join you. Do not even hope that he will. Once he makes an agreement, it's for good. He will not step out of the creed." She lightly punched his cheek and got off the desk to depart. There was nothing left to be said. Both men were quite intractable. Nothing can move or persuade them as much. She sighed, going to the other side of the room. For a second, the Templar looked over his shoulder to watch her go farther away before turning back to his journal; such an unyielding woman. She and her sister were so much alike, it pained him to think.

….

"I saw him come in here," the captain entered his quarters and closed the door behind him, "What did he want?"

"What he's always wanted, I guess—your allegiance."

It was the truth anyway, or what she figured to be the truth. Not sure if his head on a silver platter was sufficient. Perhaps he's going about this route to avoid having to ultimately kill his son. His father never did seem like a father no matter how many times he would call him 'son' and admit to being his biological parent, but that's not what family is. The captain came and sat next to the novice.

"How is your foot?" way to change the subject.

"Fine, I think. I put some alcohol on it and Angie changed the wraps. How's yours?"

"I've dealt with more fatal injuries before. I will be fine as well."

"Damn broken bottle on the beach. It was an accident, Con—"

"I know," he raised his hand, "You still manage to get yourself hurt it seems. I do not blame you for accidents."

"So would you join the Templars if given the chance?" she knew he was beating around the bush for them to avoid the subject. He glared at her for asking something like this. It was not his desire to speak or question their allegiance. He would never join them. _Never_. Those men took his mother away—notably, Charles Lee. Why should he join such a malevolent force? The novice saw the hatred growing in his eyes foiling the calmness in his expression, but didn't bother to back out of her question. "Well, of course you probably wouldn't when you consider the safety of your people… but would you?"

**"****_Would you_****?"** he snapped back, rather coldly, too.

"Please don't make this about me, babe. As much as they may have good intentions, I would never join a group of men who do just about anything to get what they want. In my preference of helping people—I don't want to spill civilian blood to free them. It's unfair to everyone. Now tell me and answer me: Would you ever join them?" He leaned back in his seat, still watching her.

"No."

"Bingo," she was still lying on her back and moved her head to his lap, "And you say I'm the difficult one."

"But why ask such a ridiculous question?" he took her face in his hand to face him. She shrugged and pursed her lips. Did he not want to know more about his father? Knowing more of the other half of his kin should put him at ease. She remembered asking such a question when they were still adjusting to each other's company in homestead. He was so distant about it—so far away. He'd explain that his mother was killed and his village was attacked by the Templars—leaving him some scars that may never heal, but he would never say anymore. He would say these things to let her know why he must fight them since she, too, is involved. She lowered her eyes and recalled his words from the early days.

_"So you're doing this for revenge or what?"_

_"It is not revenge I desire—it is justice. My people did not deserve this and neither did my mother. I will not let our land be conquered by those men. _Never_."_

_"_Please, dude_," she patted his shoulder, "Don't confuse your sense of justice with revenge. Besides, there are more important things than revenge anyway. Like, protecting what's left of your family." All she could see on his face was dilemma. It was like he was being tossed back and forth in his roots, and blood. He shook his head._

_"You do not understand. On this land, I am torn. Part of me wants to fight and repel all outsiders. The other part of me __**is**__ the outsider." She walked closer to him. There was a sense of grief in his voice that had him in turmoil no doubt. Shame she could do nothing to cheer him up or give him some hope. The old man wouldn't do so much either. Ok… this isn't awkward at all._

_"There, there…" she patted his back._

_"Please… don't," he brushed off her hand and she gave a sigh of relief._

_"Oh, thank God because I really had nothing else to say after that."_

How he still ended up liking her then still remained a mystery to her. Oh well, that was a long time ago—even further because she's from the future. The novice sat up and looked to the captain. It was surprising that he wasn't even tired yet. Maybe a few more days and it'll finally catch up to him.

"Why a ridiculous question?" she mocked, "Just because. I mean, do you really want to kill him, Connor?"

"…" he scratched his chin and looked away.

"You're not thinking of—"he faced her as if he was getting an idea, "No. No."

"What if this truce were to stay? Our goals truly aligned?"

"NO," she started to point fingers, "Stop it. Stop talking crazy! You sound crazy!"

"What is 'crazy' is this cycle of death the Templars must suffer when they have the same goals as us."

"I don't want to hear anymore—**_ah, son of a…_**" the captain stomped his heel and she felt the worst of it until she fell silent. That was certainly a dirty trick.

"I will speak to the old man of this matter, then. May your wound heal properly." She tugged him before he could leave. "What is it?" Tsipporah clenched her fists on his jacket and sat in thought before reaching up to his face, capturing his lips in hers. It was a bit weird for her to initiate it first for she never had the guts to. However, now seemed different… every time they would part for some distance and not speak to each other, pieces of her fell away and wondered if he felt the same. Most likely, yes. She felt his lips take her in, accepting the gift of tenderness until she broke it up.

* * *

Haytham Kenway was dropped off at New York as he requested after giving Washington back the supplies for his encampment. He didn't say why he it was his preference nor did he bid his son farewell. They just parted and that was that. He gave his son and his crew a lenient glance before continuing up the boardwalk. Ahead of him waited Charles Lee in the shadows, scowling to himself of how his leader had to board with a ship of fools in order to get his work done, but at least Church was out of the way and there was no more opposition or traitors. The crew said nothing when they saw the other Templar save for Connor who growled to himself. Still, he thought that there has to be some way for the two opposing forces to work together. There had to be some way, right? He would ponder on this once they reached back to the docks of homestead. His aunt barely said a word to him until then. Once reaching the docks, everyone tied off the Aquila and went about their business. Well, the novice was stuck getting a piggyback from her boss to the manor against her will. He eventually put her down in her room.

"I sort of wanted to eat first, but go to Achilles."

"I know," he nodded, "Promise me that you'll rest here for a moment."

"Fine…" she grunted and he casually left her room, closing the door.

Connor ventured down the stairs already knowing what say, but he paused in mid-step. Looking back at the previous years, his old mentor taught him so much. His observer was an assailant sent by the spirits who knew just as much and probably more since she was from the future, but it was Achilles who taught him the way of the Creed. He continued his way to the study, finding the old man writing something. He took a deep breath and knocked the post to signal his presence. He looked less than thrilled to see his student return. He was used to feeling by now.

"Welcome back," he said indifferently, "And how was Martinique?" He would answer that, but something else had to be at least to be forward about it. The blonde was leaning at the window, biting her nail and paying no mind to the two.

"Achilles, I… I owe you an apology." Then the other two looked up. What, was he saying sorry after all this time? Angie didn't bat a lash and tried to look passive as much as possible. The old man waved his hand, thinking his hearing was fleeing him. "It was wrong of me to say the things I did."

No, his student really was apologizing. He gave a glance to the blonde and she understood. She quietly walked out of the room and bade herself to go upstairs, and check on her friend instead. For months of training, he would scold his student for his ignorance and saw no threat in him, but he did see something that was worth the years of cultivation into the prime killer he was today—humility, passion, conviction… He raised his head.

"Your words were harsh, Connor, but there was also truth there—I failed the Order. Allowed the Templars to take control…" he had his reasons doing so, but would not exploit them. He had his private matters kept that way.

"But now their hold is weakened, which makes me believe there's a chance for peace." What did he just say? "Imagine what might be accomplished if we were to unite." His observer overheard from the top of the stairwell, barely a few feet from her door. Angie receded to its interior, rolling in controlled laughter, but was knocked in the ribs for doing it. Tsipporah thought it would just be an apology alone, and then she remembered who she was dealing with: mercy and then kill. Back downstairs, Achilles was puzzled. His student was so against the Templar Order. What's going on?

"Why the change of heart? Where is this coming from?" Connor didn't answer for a moment, which gave the old man all the information he needed; "You've met your father, haven't you?"

"Yes! And they were like two peas in a pod, too—"The blonde poked her head in and quickly was pulled back by her companion, hopping up the stairs. Men were talking; the least they could do was leave them to have some privacy. Angie was always the nosier one of the bunch, even when they were small. They didn't have to observe everything, but their insane hearing caught too much already. The young assassin had no intention of lying about it. They worked together for some days since their interests were aligned. There had to be more than just that.

"I do not claim to trust the man—or even like him. But I would be remiss to ignore this opportunity."

"Haytham may listen, but will he understand? And even if he does, will he agree?"

"Even he must admit that we achieve more together than we do alone." Smells like another trip, according to the novice. She stepped back into her room and closed the door, not wanting to hear anymore of this. Angie saw the inconsequential look of despair in her friend's eyes. Her pupils diminished in size out of stress and wavered in color.

"What's wrong, Sipsy? Wouldn't you want Connor to see Haytham again?"

"It's not that, Angie. I just don't know what to think anymore…" they could have carried out this conversation until all her psyche-locks were out of the way, but her boss came in looking right at her. She narrowed her eyes and plopped into her bed. "You told me to rest, bub, so I'm resting." She scoffed into the pillow. Connor was slightly impervious.

"You're going to find Haytham aren't you?" her face was still in the pillow.

"Alone, it would seem. You are reluctant to leave. Are you threatened by him?"

"Threatened?" she picked her head up, "_Hell no_. I want to go out. Don't mind the father son bonding… I'm just a little… annoyed as fuck that you're thinking of an alliance, but you do you, so yeah. I'm going."

"No one is forcing you—"

"Whatever…" she switched over, "[It'll be easier to go like this with my foot fucked up as it is right now. Say, boss? What if he disagrees?]"

"We shall see, then. I cannot predict the future."

"[Neither can I.]" she hopped onto the window sill as Angie opened it, "[You go on ahead. I'll catch up after beating Smoky the Bear to some fish.]" She took off to the outside, knowing that the darkness would dominate the skies in a matter of hours. The blonde shrugged her shoulders and closed the window, brushing past the young assassin, but not without bidding him farewell and to be careful.

…

Tsipporah made a rush for New York and managed to get there before the setting of the sun. Must be a new record. She looked down and swooped in to land on a particular rooftop. Soon, she was met by some other like-minded fellows of flight. They scurried a place on either side of her, gobbling so that passing civilians would think nothing more of them.

"[You are meeting with the human here?]" One turkey asked.

"[Yep. He should be coming as soon as possible.]"

"[Yes. The other human that looks like him, but paler is at the docks. Question, good fellow]," the other replied, "[You know of the hunting people, yes? And the pale-faced stinky human?]"

"[You mean Charles Lee? Is he up to something?]" She jerked her head, aware of the nick names they give to anyone who passes by. The two had no reason to make up stories, so what did they have to share? "[Did something happen?]" She pressed. The two fowls poked their heads around as if trying to remember. Then one of them shrieked in recall.

"[Yes! One of our correspondences heard his hunting dog say something about the people in red being pushed back and… Washing-clothes' reputation being ruined?]"

"[Washington? Thanks guys. I'll—]"

"[_There you are, you filthy fowls_!]" Something below them was barking and scratching the wall tenaciously. The young woman wasn't sure if she wanted to know what, exactly. Whatever it was, it was spewing death threats like a maniac.

"[Uh… who the hell is that?]"

"[Stinking human's dog!]" the two turkeys flew off in different directions as soon as Lee's hunting dog managed to get on the roof. The novice flew higher to get out of reach, but enough to get a good look at him. Upon closer inspection, his eyes were wild and disoriented. After a while of barking at her insistently, he started gnawing at his paw like a madman. It made no sense to the novice at first, since she would figure for Lee's pets to be as mad as he is, but it did in coming moment. The hooded man came beside her and she landed on his shoulder. He furrowed his brows at the sight of the mongrel.

"I shall put it out of his misery."

"[Yeah. He has rabies—I can tell.]" She hung in the air as the assassin unsheathed his blade to finish the poor creature and whip off the blood. "[Your father's at the docking area. And according to my informants, Lee is still on Washington's ass.]"

"What else of Lee?" he looked ahead with mind elsewhere. The novice couldn't read if he was actually interested in knowing what she was speaking about or if he was more bent on this alliance thing with the Grand Master.

"[Nothing, I guess. You put his dog out of his misery, though.]" Then she suddenly gasped, "[Boss, over there! It's Haytham!]" She flapped her wings a little in alert and hopped off him, allowing him to jump down and meet his parent. A gut-feeling told her that this was all a bad idea; that they shouldn't be doing this. It was not a sense of not wanting to be near the Templar right now, but more that they had to be somewhere else than here. Only default was that the novice didn't know where to begin or where she was being directed to. Another ominous feeling was paranoia—was she being watched by someone else right now? Lingering on the thought, the young assassin shared the feeling, looking around him swiftly as well before turning back to Haytham who was speaking to a like-minded mercenary who was doing a piss-poor job on finding out what the Loyalists are up to. Unfortunately, nothing could be done if they were completely in the dark. Connor narrowed his eyes, not believing what he was hearing.

"I thought the Templars had eyes and ears everywhere."

"Oh, yes, we did until you started cutting them off."

"Your contact said orders are from above. It tells us exactly what we need to do: track down the Loyalist commanders."

"Hmm… indeed. Well, I suppose since your observer is up and about, she'll scout ahead for us." The novice scoffed and flew overhead.

"[Not if I shit on your head first!]" she flew up and looked in every direction. Over at a ruined building, she saw a gathering of redcoats—more like bodyguards and a small group of men talking. That could be it. She swooped back down and urged the men to keep on a certain lane. They both were quiet and careful as any predators were which made the observer a little uneasy considering that they were both of a unique lineage. They weren't just trained—they were born to kill. She saw it in their eyes. This tactic was more genetic than anything she was taught back home. They all sat and listened for answers. It was impossible. The British commanders spoke in circles, as Haytham put it.

"Then what do you propose we do? March in there and demand answers?"

"Well…" his father stood, "Yes." And jumped down, landing like a bird of prey while stabbing his hidden blades into the sensitive napes of two bodyguards, spilling their blood. Such recklessness riled up the other men for the offensive. "Connor! A little help here?"

* * *

**I believe we are almost close to the end with the last few battles. Well... as much as romance is involved, this is still a war and there has to be blood before we get all happy. Then again, this is the American Revolution-not that happy. Still, I'm getting stuff like "make them get married!" or "put more lemons!" something miscellaneous of the sort. Anyway, apparently the stranger clad in black leather shall make an appearance somewhere. :D**

**There's gonna be a lot more tears and comfort to come, though. And... more... tomahawk-death blows... (*_*)**

**Calm down, there will be romance. This is still an adventure-romance genre. Also, I'd like to thank my readers, as always. Seriously, you guys are awesome with your amusing reviews! ;D**

**For the last chapter (almost there), I'll put up a playlist of the songs I listened to doing this. I mean, if you guys want... I dunno. Say if you'd like that and I'll do. Love ya!**


	25. Chapter 25: Maraud

_"Half the truth is often a whole lie."_

**English 18th Century Proverbs**

* * *

The three commanders were apprehended. They were unarmed save for a single pistol they had on their waist, but they were unarmed. One of them tried to escape the hold of the two men, not wanting to be interrogated for they knew what the elder gentleman who do once he had his way. Both youths could even smell it—that this Englishman had more blood on him than any other soldier or foe they have faced. It was of little consequence. They had to know what the Loyalists were planning. The country would be enclosing an ensured victory if they only knew. The two captured redcoats were taken to Fort George not too long ago and the Assassin's observers were told to aid the Grand Master at keeping them at bay until they were inside. Once they were, the young woman and the elder tied the two down, waiting for the last one to be delivered unto them. The old man circled around, wondering what was keeping him. The young woman didn't mind leaving—she wanted to do so all night.

"Well, this is taking longer than I thought. Hope he isn't lost…" he looked out the window and wondered. The hostages shook and squirmed in their seats. "I suppose we should get some information out of these two for confirmation first, but as his honorary observer, you will have to go out and find him."

"And why should I listen to anything from someone who belittles me?" Tsipporah barely turned or bat an eyelash for she did not care. She should for the sake of this ever-growing country. The 80's were pushing forth, so now would be the time to quell the storm the colonists have made. "I'll find him on my own accord," she said in a dark undertone as she made her way to the door and the hostages fussed and wrestled in their seats about how they were Englishmen and Englishmen do not beg. An inhuman screech jumped out of her throat as she looked over her shoulder, leaving the bound men to soil themselves.

Outside, she fled only a few feet from the Templar's hold before seeing the Assassin hold the commander at gunpoint. At least that part of the job seemed easy. She turned on her heel and was met face to face with the Grand Master who wanted to greet his son for a job well done.

"Wait! Wait!" the redcoat begged, "I'll tell you anything you want—anything! Only don't make me go in there!"

"We only have some questions for you," Connor stated calmly. Rather too calmly, one might add.

"Cross that threshold and I'm a dead man!" He did not fear charges of the British, but more of the merciless hands of the extremists who made this fort their den and headquarters. All the soldiers knew that all who passed the entry line was ensured imminent death. Haytham met up with them for the commander to be dragged inside. By accident, the novice looked over her companion's shoulder and saw the bodies he's bloodied lingering in the shadows. She turned away, meaning to ignore it to follow the men deeper into the fort. The young man kept pushing the redcoat further inside with each hesitant step the hostage took. At this, the novice was reminded of how frightening her leader in the Brotherhood was. He was tall compared to regular infantry men and other ranks alike—and more built in such a bestial manner. His fighting style even more so for within an instance there'd be a spill of men's blood; even blinking would be a miss to most of the action. And all his kills were quick—all his work was temperamental. _That's right… the battlefield is his ventilation for his short temper._

Haytham shoved the redcoat into a seat while the others were behind him with their heads faced down in the shadows. He wanted answers.

"What are the British planning?" and the redcoat bit his tongue, but not without taking a second look to the men who had him bound.

"To march from Philadelphia. That city's finished. New York's the key. They'll double the numbers—push back the rebels."

"When do they begin?" the Templar pressed.

"T-Two days from now…" he trembled.

"June 18th… I must warn Washington." The novice whispered something in her boss' ear. Something that was bothering her that they should get to once they've gotten this info out of the way. Haytham did not hear it, but was more occupied with disposing the man they've caught. He begged to be released and so he was. A single hidden blade was brandished from his wrist. By the take of the other's shoulder, the elder man allowed the blade's sharpness to reel out blood from the redcoat's throat, fatally killing him. Both youths glared in shock. Connor was even more appalled to see.

"You killed him… you killed _all _of them. **_Why_**?"

"They'd have warned the Loyalists."

"You could have held them until the fight was done."

"What, and waste precious time and money on their care? What would be the point? They'd given up everything they knew. I'll meet you at Valley Forge." He brushed past his son's shoulder, leaving the two alone. The novice didn't want to linger in a room with dead men, so she turned to leave as well, but stopped at the young man's side. If anything of the curse, she was feeling his displeasure in all of this. She turned her head a little, wondering if she should say something. Connor sharply inhaled, opening and closing his fists; and then turned to the door.

"Connor…" she blurted out. She wished she hadn't, too. It seemed too awkward now to start a conversation. Forget it. She gusted out some air and nervously waddled to the door. "I'll wait outside, then." He took her hand. An intense firm grip, she thought it, much like the death grips done on his enemies before he buries something sharp in their heads. "Is something wrong, boss? We're still on mission time—approximately 169.95 miles and 114.2 minutes, 16 seconds if we go now."

"We'll leave immediately then," he went for the exit, dragging behind the observer. Up until the end of the fort where they were back in the city, she tried pulling her hand out of his. He was giving a whole new meaning to the phrase "death-grip". She wondered how he wasn't being bothered by this for they were cursed to share the same pain. His mind must be elsewhere as his eyes were sharp and facing front. The foot injury didn't seem to bother him much either, though the same cannot be said for the novice. Now she really couldn't say anything, not now that he looked and felt pretty volatile. Every passing redcoat who tried to halt him was either pushed or lost a finger… literally. She wanted to know why on earth he was being so quiet. Well, of course he's calm and collected, but he seemed a little disturbed right now. When they finally reached the edge of the city upon calling their horses, the novice mended some words to herself. He was acting too strange for her liking. If it wasn't because of her, then she absolutely had something to worry or fear.

"Is there something you wanna share with the class there, boss?" she asked bluntly. She had enough of beating around the bush. He only creased his brows. He was an open book and wished not to lie to his allies.

"My father is all that I feared he'd be," he sighed.

"What? An asshole? Blood as cold as ice? An unfeeling, neglecting type of guy?" His irresponsiveness was starting to press too many buttons. "You know what I think? I'm still thinking of the opinion I had about you and your father a long time ago when I used to just sit back and watch you train."

"Which is?" he already knew.

"You just want to fill in that gaping hole in your chest about him. No matter how bad your relationship is—to know him and try to make up for all the times he wasn't there for you as a parent when you were growing up. It's only natural, though. Who _doesn't_ want to know who or how they're parents are?" He fell deadly silent again, giving her a quick glance. It was not far from the truth; he wanted to know his father better than all of the names that he was given on the surface. Even more was that the Brotherhood and the Order were like-minded in terms of winning this country's independence. Why fight against each other when they had the same end-goal? She assumed he was a little more relaxed, but he was far from that and didn't want to put it up for discussion—at least not for now. They continued their way to Valley Forge.

…..

Once they met up with the Grand Master, he scoffed on seeing the two together. She wanted to gather the saliva in her mouth and spit on his boot, but not with her boss watching. Watching them walk side by side made her feel out of place. As usual, the two men were arguing.

"We should be sharing what we know with Lee, not Washington…" Haytham fussed. Just by the mention of that man's name sent his blood pressure skyrocketing.

"You seem to think I favor him, but my enemy is a notion, not a nation. It is wrong to compel obedience—whether to the British Crown or the Templar Cross. And I hope the Loyalists will see this, too, for they are also victims." Maybe she should find the Commander before she gets dragged into this debate.

"You oppose tyranny. Injustice. These are just symptoms. Their true cause is human weakness. Why do you think I keep on showing you the error of your way? Your observer knows this, yet she fails to indulge you of it." She glared at him and made a guttural noise. For once, Connor didn't scold her for it. His father had criticized the both of them and their beliefs for a while. His words gradually crawled under his skin about what the Congress had to say about liberty, but it didn't have him think of changing sides. The way Haytham was trying to persuade him into doing so pissed him off even more.

"You have _said_ much, yes, but you _shown_ me nothing." She hasn't seen him this mad—brimming mad—since their very first mission in the early 70's with the tea party. The Templar murmured something to himself, but the novice didn't hear it. Knowing him, she should've. When they approached the Commander, they revealed what the British were planning in order to topple the rebellion. Predictably, he was pleased to be notified and would have his men moved so that they can prepare themselves. Haytham slinked his way past Washington, snatching a piece of paper the commander was just reading closely. The contents of it… it seemed that the very flow of time was slowing down painfully.

When the commander noticed the Englishman nosing about, he tensed defensively, nearly lunging at Haytham.

"That is private correspondence!"

"Well, of course it is. Would you like to know what it says, Connor?" _What was he talking about? What's so private?_ "It seems that your good friend here has ordered an attack on your village. Although, 'attack' would be putting it mildly. Tell him commander." The young assassin couldn't believe what he was hearing. He felt rooted to the spot; he needed to know why such a ploy to hurt his people? What have they done wrong? They didn't deserve this!

"We've been receiving reports of allied natives working with the British. I've asked my men to put a stop to it." _A stop? Really?_

"By burning their villages and salting the land. By calling for their extermination, according to this letter. Not the first time either. Tell him what you did fourteen years ago." _Oh no…_

"That was another time. The Seven Years War." The Seven Years War? The world-wide conflict in which the Iroquois Confederacy got involved in where they were siding with the British?

"Wait…" she gathered, "So you're saying the colonists who went up against the natives were—"

"Led by your great Commander in Chief? Yes. And so now you see what happens to this 'great man' when under duress. He makes excuses, displaces blame. Does a great many things, in fact—except take responsibility—"

"Enough!" he stopped them both, "Who did what and why must wait. My people come first." He was ready to take off, but Haytham called for him. The novice went ahead in the woods as if she was expecting some company. The Grand Master bid himself to accompany him. No. Connor would not allow it.

"Son…"

"Do you think me so soft that by calling me son I might change my mind?" he's had enough of that charade, "How long do you sit on this information? Or am I to believe you've discovered it now? My mother's blood may stain another's hands, but Charles Lee is no less a monster and all he does by your command. A warning to you both—choose to follow me or oppose me and I will kill you." He pointed to Washington and Haytham before departing on his way. Most of the ways up the dirt path; he was alone save for the rustling of animals. His mind was too busied—too bruised. The people he had come to aid for such a long time did not seem to benefit for his people's safety after all. Those he had helped had these plans and histories turned away so the eyes could not see. It pained him to think that his father was once again right about the colonists—more so with Charles Lee. He had told him before that Washington was insecure and unworthy for the position he was placed in.

* * *

Once he laid eyes on a single column of American 'soldiers', he climbed up into the trees with the very air muting the sound of his footsteps. He watched as they were galloping in order leisurely, speaking of the location they were to purge. His eyes darkened as they spoke. Swiftly, a direct hit of the throat stupefied one of the men and alerted the others. The hooded man that was shrouded by darkness took his victim as his neck was tangled in the rope jumped down with its end in hand. Hooking the deadly rope into the ground, the colonist wrestled to adjust his weight in a futile attempt before his life's breath finally escaped his lips. The others barreled towards him in anger, but no… he saw the fear and uncertainty in their eyes as they charged with their muskets in hand. The musket of the closest one was caught under his arm and its holder was kicked to the dirt harshly. The next one came at full force only to be caught in a headlock and the ever-feared tomahawk was brandished from his side, burying it fatally into its victim. There were three left. Only three. He dashed to the side as their muskets were full and at the ready to fire. The man knocked to the ground found his footing, but as soon as he did, the assassin held his arms behind his back and got around—using him as meat shield. As soon as his blood spilled, the men came at him in an attempt to surround their grim reaper in the night. It was no use. He countered their moves, slit their vitals, and finished them without a second of mercy. The assassin did not stop there. He would continue down this path until he knew his people were safe.

"Connor!" a voice off the road called to him and its owner appeared. It was his novice he had thought to flee to secure the area. He stepped towards her, but as he saw, she was not alone. It was the wolf pack that they met in the earlier weeks only now they weren't as pure as the winter snow. Their fur dark and dim with fresh blood dripping from their coat… They came from a vigorous battle, he gathered. Was it near the village?

"What happened? Did you eliminate Washington's men?"

"No," she whipped the blood off her elbow-blades, gripping them for dear life, "Not all of them, sir. There's still more in the area—probably more to come, too." This was bad. All the rage repressed was being set out on these men defending their country, yet… She saw it in his face. There was much confusion under his blank mask that he was trying to contain. Maybe she should have said something before. It was something that was told to her even before she reached America at a young age. "There's… something I have to tell you. It's about the future, but…" she sniffed, "I'll tell you when everyone's alright."

He stopped and gazed into her eyes as if she had seen the end of the world. He wore those eyes once when his mother died before him. Connor nodded, continuing down the road. The novice bid for the wolf pack to keep to the shadows near the village should something happen. She expected nothing good to come from this and sucked up her oncoming tears to venture on. There was no time to be pessimistic. In fact, there was no time. The next man in a blue coat she spotted was rammed into without given a chance to counter. Squaring him in the face, she shattered his entire nasal cavity and finished him with a strike to his ribs—collapsing his lungs so that he drowned in his own blood. Then came another. It was just one more. Tsipporah gave herself a head-start by digging her heel to the ground and then…

The soldier stopped, feeling pain sear at his chest. He felt the chill of the air come across his face as he rapidly paled with death. When he looked down to see what has been done to him, he wanted to scream, but couldn't. The novice took her hand back abrasively as more blood flowed and soaked. Cracking noises sounded as she retrieved something vital in her hands and crushed it before the man's very eyes—_his heart_. He watched as more blood seethed from his sundered chest and fell to his knees, then to the ground. She moved on, picking up speed under her heels.

Along the way, she was met with the corpses of Washington's men—both fresh and cold. There were soft howls that only her ears were able to hear. At least she knew now that the beasts were creatures of their word. It was a pain to have to take the entire way back, but it was necessary and quickened the pace even more by turning. Once she was in the area, she heard nothing but the night of the forest. _Good_. They were killed; they were gone. Nothing was going to hurt her friends—her second family, now. She morphed back into human form, seeing that the area was clear. _Was she ever wrong_. As soon as she assumed her human state of being, something assaulted her from the side. The novice cursed at herself for being careless. Of course there would be some hiding in the forest still. Whoever she was wrestling with, they were sure strong and overpowering. Finally, she was able to strike him in the privates and he buckled, but recovered too quickly to her dismay. He turned, fixing his blade to do a number on her face. She was able to stop it coming a few centimeters from her face, gasping about who her attacker was.

…..

Connor made it to the village beforehand, meeting with the Clan Mother. She, too, was glad to see him well. Kanatahséton was unharmed. That was good.

"(Ratonhnhaké ton!)" the elder woman greeted, "(You have returned, but why? I thought you would be with that other man.)"

"(What other man?)"

"(Boiling Water. The one called Charles Lee. He took Kanen'tó:kon and a few others with him.)"

"(What? Where have they gone?)"

"(To push back those who would take our land.)" He allowed his grandmother's words to sink in. They were aiding Charles Lee? This isn't right… "(Why are you troubled? Is this not what you wanted? For us to take a stand?)" True this is exactly what he wanted, but not like this. He had to stop the warriors of his tribe. They should be still out in the forest. He was about to leave to do so, but one from his tribe called to him. It was his cousin as well as her children.

"(Ratonhnhaké ton, you are here!)" She greeted and her small sons grinned.

"(It is good to see that you are safe, but I must stop the men.)"

"(I know… but, my husband will not listen to me.)" she looked about her cousin, "(Where is Tsipporah? Is she not with you—)"

**_"RATONHNHAKÉ TON!"_**a desperate voice echoed through the forest, alerting those over the walls. Kateri's mother rushed out of the longhouse and jerked her head around, recognizing the sound.

"Was that not your observer?" she spoke in the King 's English.

"_Tsipporah_…" he said under his breath and dashed out of the village. He knew she was in peril for he started to feel some bruises under his coat. It didn't seem she was fighting back at all; only defending herself. Once he was in the forest, he saw his men gather and surround their helpless prey. He saw the figure scurry up the tree only to be pulled down to the rubbish and grass once more. The novice lifted her fists up to the level of her eyes. She didn't want to hurt the men of the Mohawk tribe. At least… at least there was a less painless way to do this, but she didn't want to leave them out in the forest. What if there were more of Washington's men on the way. If she knew anything, it is that the natives were determined to keep their home—the Commander would send his finest.

...

"(Surrender yourself and we shall bring no harm to you!)"

"(What's gotten into you guys?)" she was backed into a tree, "(Why are you doing this?)"

"(It was mistake to welcome you to this village. You have brought misfortune upon us and for that you must die!)" the elder spat at her shoe. The novice was more confused than any other feeling that churned in her gut. The native men cleared, making a space as another one entered their circle. The young man's face was stern with purpose, unfeeling, but she saw in his eyes that he felt betrayed and angered. The novice recoiled as he looked at her.

"(So it is true that you and Ratonhnhaké ton were helping Washington—the man that would end our clan?)" he readied his knife in his hand, coming towards her. She buckled, not wanting to go up against him.

"(Kanen'tó:kon… _please_…)" her tears were threatening to spill, "(_Listen to me._ I am your friend. I had no idea what the commander was doing…)," her tears fell and she choked, "(You know me—I would never put you or anyone here in danger—)"

"(Lies!)" he took her by the collar and the others blocked any means of escape, "(You have come to kill us—all of us! We shall not let you live… nor Ratonhnhaké ton.)" He raised his knife, aiming to carve out her heart. The novice waited for the fatal blow, knowing that she could not defend herself from it. She waited for the arms of death to welcome her… but it never came. She opened her eyes, not realizing that she had closed them that second. Her collar was not tugged nor was she the main attention anymore. An exhale was released from her lips and looked up. Kanen'tó:kon swung his knife in the opposite direction, sensing someone reach for him from behind. Around them, the other men of the village were unconscious on the ground. When did this happen? The native man readied his knife once more until he found the man responsible before him. The other meant no harm nor did he wish to kill his own clan.

"(Peace, Kanen'tó:kon)," Connor said as he was eying between the novice and his childhood friend. She didn't know what to do. Her feet were rooted to the ground.

"(Ratonhnhaké ton! Come to kill me yourself?)"

"(No! That's not why he is here!)" The young woman reasoned, but was swiftly pushed to the ground with a carved blade to her throat. She shivered at the contact, knowing that if she made one wrong move, both she and the assassin would die.

"(What do you mean…?)"

"(Charles Lee told me everything. The Patriots seek to destroy us. And you and her would aid them.)" _Lee…_

"(That man is a liar!)"

"(He said you have been corrupted. That you would try to deceive, but here they are on our doorstep. What do you say to that?)"

"(It is a mistake…)" he tried to reason.

"(The only mistake was trusting you would help to keep us safe. You and this outsider)," he pressed the blade further onto her skin and she held her breath halfway.

"_Boss…_" she whined, trying to get away, but the native holding her down was stronger and bigger than her. Much less, she didn't want to hurt him.

"(They have seduced you and turned you against your own kind.)" He was ready to slit her throat—

"(Stop!)" The young assassin pleaded his friend. Surprisingly, he did and left the girl alone save for the kick to her side as he rose from her and approached the other. The novice coughed. She couldn't stop the tears. The village was safe, but for what? No one believed they were here to protect them. Perhaps it was their fault. She placed a hand on the tree she leaned on and tried to get a hold of herself. When her eyes focused, she saw the worst of this night. She witnessed two men—two friends fighting each other. Connor begged him to stop this, but his friend thought him a traitor. He kept swinging his weapon expertly to draw blood. All she could do was watch for her boss ordered her to stay out of it. The battle seemed to go on for a while until Kanen'tó:kon had him on his back with a knife looming over his throat. The novice panicked—not for her life, but for his. This can't end like this. No… he can't die… not like this…

"Ratonhnhaké ton…" she said under her breath as the knife closed dangerously close.

_"Ratonhnhaké ton!"_ her tears spoke and Connor acted fast, without thinking. He had to defend himself and pushed his friend's armed hand as much as he could. It pained him to do this, but the adrenaline that ran through his system sparked. The young man who he had called a "friend" for years was determined to end him. There were many more things to do—tasks to fulfill. His life's mission and his lineage could not end with him. If he were to die now, the line of the Assassins would diminish and the Templars would have their way. His mind truly woke when he heard his observer's voice carry through the air. Immediately and instinctively, he brandished his hidden-switch-blade and inhaled sharply… **_STAB_**.

Kanen'tó:kon's throat opened and spilled his blood at a quickening pace. It was rather abnormal at first, but then the novice understood. In fact, it explained why Clan Mother would not let him out of the village as much and others would be gentle about him. It wasn't for spoil at all. He was anemic. She rushed over to Connor's side as he rose to his knees to hear his friend's last words. He would never show much emotion outside on missions, but this was different. He was distressed to have done such a low blow to his closest friend—a brother to him. Tsipporah saw his apparent pain and anguish. She wished no harm either. She sighed sadly. It was not permitted, nor was it allowed. She folded her hands and whispered to herself and the Passage Field expanded all around them. This place was meant for only essential kills and for important conversations to be recorded…yet… _How could she not_?

"(My passing wins you nothing… Ratonhnhaké ton. Charles Lee rides for Monmouth to reveal the Patriots' plans. The Loyalists will destroy them. The revolution will be ended. The Crown victorious. Our people… safe.)" Connor held his hand as he passed and trembled.

"(It seems our people will never be safe)," he furrowed his brows, "(You are resting now, my friend.)" He released his hand from his hold and his face wrinkled in great sorrow, bowing his head. The Field rose after that. The novice sat down beside him, looking down at their fallen friend. Again, she didn't know what to say. Again, she was incapable of consoling him. She would have blocked his chi to stop him from attacking, but it would be no use. He would have come to kill them tenaciously and it was trouble they didn't need—her rational thoughts analyzed. Even her inner voice of Juno had said such things to her once. This was too unbearable. The man who had teased her so much about her liking his friend was no longer in this world. She sniffed, reaching over to his face.

"I… should close his eyes, so he can sleep."

Connor nodded, so she brushed her hand over his face so that his eyes were closed. She got to her feet and helped the young assassin up, but he never took his eyes off his friend. To her surprise, he had barely shed a tear. Every other emotion was cruelly pulled out of him but tears failed to surface. She opened her mouth to say something, but a scream traveled through the air. It made them both jump a little. When they looked to see who it was…

**"(Ratonhnhaké ton! What have you done?!)"** Kateri lifted her voice from her lungs as her mother used all her strength to hold her back, "(_You killed my beloved_! I thought you were protecting us…!)" She cried and eventually fell to her knees. Aghanashimi held her still, close to her bosom. She rubbed her child's head and turned her eyes away so she couldn't see anymore. There was too much to absorb—too much to take. The native woman gently raised her child to her feet, whispering for her to go back as she eyed her nephew. He barely spoke; only bowed his head in consternation. The aunt released the tight embrace she had on her child and she stood, petrified and shivering. She sprinted towards the pair that stood over her son-in-law's body.

"Leave," she bluntly suggested, "You must go. _Now_."

"Aghanashimi…" he managed to say, but the words perished on his tongue. She grabbed his shoulder roughly.

"No… you must leave this place. You cannot let the Templars win. We may have lost today, but you cannot allow them to stand any longer. Stay… and our village—_our home_ will reap the consequences." She straightened him up, "Leave—both of you. Return to where you are most needed." She shooed them off, pushing them further away with her club until they were a distance from the area. Kateri shuddered, falling to her husband's side. All that they were… all that they promised to do… _all of it erased in an instant_.

* * *

The rest of the way was in silence. Neither of them said a word since the prior events. Tsipporah twiddled her fingers, unsure if she should say something. In mid-stride, Connor whistled for his horse to come, which it did, but was accompanied with the wolf pack. That's right, she recalled. She also could have had the wolves defend them, but that, too, was a risky choice. It didn't matter now. Everything was done and the youths were exhausted both physically and mentally. It was a shame how many disappointments were met all in one night. The assassin's face was obscured, leaving the novice wondering what was going on in his head right now. Before, she saw so much pain. While he rode off, she morphed. Things remained that way until they reached the Davenport manor. He quietly put the horse away in its place and closed its door. The novice turned again, heading for the porch. She felt indifferent to see her blonde companion waiting there for them. Angie's face brightened, but died down when she saw the defeated look on their faces.

"Sipsy? Boss?" she stammered, not sure if she should smile for them, "W-What happened?" she grimaced comically at the instant thought, "It was the sexy-British dad, huh? Talking shit about you again, babe?" Connor brushed her shoulder and got inside, slamming the door. She sensed a gaping hole in his heart just from that single touch. Now she was worried. "Alright, babe. Tell me right now: what the fuck is going… on? _Oh… Sipsy_."

She cupped her hands on her friend's face as tears spilled over and the novice hiccupped. Her eyes swelled red and she kept choking, failing to find the words of what just took place. She was afraid she would end up seeing this—feeling this way before the war's end. The novice threw her hands around friend's waist and cried in her bosom. It started to escalate into a scream she couldn't hold. All the animosity she's pressed under her skin was finally revealing its ugly hues. Before she knew it, the two were inside by the hearth. Angie slowly seated her down on one of the chairs by the fire. The novice rubbed her face in her palms, feeling more tears falling without restraint. It was too much to bear that she knew that sleeping was no option tonight. Pulling off her boots, she sniffed at the thought of Connor distancing himself from everyone for a while. Was he the sort? It would be understandable if he was. She would lock herself in her room when under duress when she got her feelings involved. She would do so now. Tsipporah quickly stood up and went around to the archway, but almost ran into Angie.

"I brought your sketchbook, drawing pencils, and paint. Do you want any water?" Yeah, at desperate times like this she would sit and draw out her emotions whether they are ugly spirals or spirits fleeting in red. Slowly, she accepted her 'baby' into her arms, wondering what to draw… what to paint. There was so much pain... too much actually. Whatever she was trying to cover, Connor must be feeling ten-fold. _Connor_…

"Angie… thank you for bringing this," she rasped tiredly, "This always cheers me up when I'm down—you know that, but…"

"What's wrong?" she took the other's hand in hers.

"I shouldn't be the one to be consoled here. We were tricked—Connor especially. The Patriots were sent to exterminate his people, burn their houses, salt their land…" she choked, "We stopped them, but the Mohawk men didn't believe us and Connor killed his best friend—all I was able to do was watch. I… I-I didn't do not a fucking thing to stop it!" she kicked the chair over and exhaled harshly.

"Babe…"

"I need to get upstairs… I can't stay down here like this, Angie…" she gave a sad smile before going up the steps with the last of her energy. Placing her hand on his door, she wiped her eyes and softly knocked. "Connor… are you awake in there?" she turned the knob and found that it was open, "I'm coming inside, ok boss?" She opened the door enough to get in and closed it behind her. She saw a figure at the corner of her eye as she did, recognizing it to be him; could be no one else. He sat at the edge of his bed hunched over with his hands folded. He was buried in his thoughts that he didn't notice anyone come inside his room.

"Connor?" his silence was understanding, but heart-wrenching, "Please say something. Anything." She reached for his face, but he turned away.

"What should I say? That my father is right and the Patriots are wrong?" there was a depth of sadness and a bit of anger in his voice, "The men of my village thinks me a traitor for following the commander willingly. My cousin will never speak to me again even if they are—no. I now know that my people will never be safe."

"Connor…" she touched his face, "That is not true."

"It is and you know this," he said coldly, his eyes sharpening, "You said your people were taken from their land only to be brought suffering and to be treated like dogs. They believed they were safe for years—what more can we expect here?!"

"We can expect to survive, Connor!" she blurted, but this time she would not take it back, "As the old man taught you your skills and I helped with your studies, you showed me that a person can still hope to be free and it can happen. I just thought this was a whole adventure and then I go home, but it's not even that… not even the point either. For once, I actually care and for once, I don't want to stop here and let the whole thing play on itself. Kanen'tó:kon's death cannot be in vain. He is your best friend and he was mine, too. But I can't side aside being scared and do nothing… anymore."

He looked at her for second and felt at her hand that touched his face. She felt him tremble from the shock of what's happened. He's never acted like this after killing a man for his face was drained and his palms were unsteady.

"What I've done cannot be undone… I am an outsider now."

"No you're not—"he gripped her wrist.

"Then what, Tsipporah? _What_?!"

She didn't say anything after that—only breaking from his death-grip and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her chin on his hair as she stood. The young woman thought she was going to cry all over again as she held him in her arms. This reminded her so of the time where he had a terrible nightmare and she sang him back to calm when they first came here at their stay in the stables. Only now, this was real. Nothing could be undone and stamped as a bad dream. It was strange for him to be soothed by her. Even as they trained, every time he was distant, she gave up on ever reaching him. Her hands rustled softly through his hair, beckoning that he'd calm down. The novice didn't think it was probably going to have the same effect as it did when he was sleeping, so she loosened her hold. Connor pulled her back in, weaving his arms around her waist and leaned into her torso. This surprised her ever so slightly. Even though he told her how he felt about her, she was still shocked. She leaned her head onto his even more.

"I… I know it looks bad now, but you always say that it'll get worse before it gets better," she tried to say, "Besides, he's not taken away from us—just resting…" Suddenly, she felt a bit of wetness on her blouse. At first, she thought it was her own tears she had spilled earlier, but then she lifted her head and watched. His shoulders were shaking and his fingers dug into her back. The wetness kept its freshness and more came onto her. She gave a small smile, stroking the strands of silky hair. Her beloved was strong—what he was doing now didn't make her think of him less. He has simply been strong for too long. All that murder and slaughter; and solitude wasn't enough to make him stronger. She hoped that he didn't feel too discouraged of all this, but how she felt didn't matter right now. She'd stand here all night by his side if it meant that he would find peace.

…

"They aren't coming down, I gather?" Achilles sat by the hearth and Angie brought out some snacks, aiding the maid. The two women took a glance up the steps and sighed to serve the tea and pastries.

"Young Master and the Young Mistress are having it hard. The Patriots are a crafty lot. They yearn for freedom, but what they fail to notice is just how bad they want it."

"I've never seen her look like that in my entire life. Well, except when her artwork is trampled or stolen. She never cried for people… ever." The old man tapped his knee and took his cane to stand.

"I suppose now they understand just what type of world they are really dealing with." The two women grimaced, knowing of this inevitable truth. Angie took a sip of her tea and heard knocking coming from the front door. She smacked her lips, putting down her tea and headed for the knob. Upon opening it, she frowned deeply… then moved back to shut the door. His face was the last face she wanted to see right now. He wedged his foot in the door, not going to leave until he did what he came here to do.

"Dude, go away!" she hissed, "You are not welcome here, Haytham! You've done enough. Now leave before I find out what else my new musket can do."

"Please… I come in peace," he held his hands apart, signifying that he was unarmed, "I only wish to give you something that my son should see." He took out a book from his side and handed it to Angie. Achilles lowered his head, not wanting to make eye contact. The blonde flipped open the pages, skimming its contents.

"A journal?" she clapped it shut, "Why this?"

"My son has to know some sort of truth. I meant no harm to him or his people, but I know now that he will not speak to me as an ally—not anymore. Give this to him as soon as I pass. I know for sure that he'll be coming for my blood or Charles'. I want him to know that it is too late to mend things now. I shall no longer criticize his observer—loyal to a fault, indeed. I'll be on my way now," he turned and looked to Achilles over his shoulder, "Take care of him as I'm sure you are better suited to than I." And he left. He did not look back to see their faces. He got on his horse and urged it to leave at once.

Upstairs, the two youths watched him leave from the window pane. They didn't bother to make a rush for the door, it'd be too late and what was the point? They would miss him anyway. Connor clenched his teeth, still spiked by all his father did not warn him of. All this time, his people were targeted. This all could have been prevented and now he was marked an enemy. The very thought of it made his blood boil. A yawn sounded from his side and saw that his observer's fatigue finally caught up to her. She flinched when she realized that he was already looking at her.

"Y'know, you should sleep, boss," she shrugged her shoulders and stretched, "I'm gonna go to bed. Good night—"he took her hand without looking at her. "Um…"

"I told you to not call me that indoors or in privacy."

"Sorry."

"And I fear I cannot sleep alone tonight…"

"…" she paused, "Are you sure? Because I'm a little vulnerable and you're a little vulnerable. I might just go straight to sleep, but if company is what you need, then I guess that what I'll give you." They couldn't do anything this night. Their nerves were too rattled. Of course nothing but rest will do something about it. At this point, the novice could care less about undressing in front of him and took his night-garment, plopping into bed. Connor followed suit, but not without bringing the novice into his arms. She didn't wriggle out of it this time or attempt to. Not in want of the romantic scent of her—simply her warmth and company. He needed her near. Deep down, he was afraid if the Patriots would cut her down without a second thought; his fellow warriors hunting her down. He held her tighter just thinking about it, smelling the wildness of her hair. Then he remembered. They would have to warn the Patriots at Monmouth for Lee would exploit their plots to the Loyalists. It made him cringe at the thought of coming to their aid, but it was no use. He would have to stop Lee and in order to do so he would defend the Americans.

* * *

The novice woke to the sun in her face. Why women of her time loved this feeling she could never comprehend. She blinked a few times and went to go on her forearms to rise from the bed. It proved difficult. Something kept her anchored down persistently. Looking next to her, she saw Connor's arms still wrapped around her waist and close to his own. She felt her skin grew goose-bumps, her body marveling his strength. He was like this since last night. Last night felt so surreal… _Oh right_, he killed his best friend. Tsipporah laid her head back in the pillow, her eyes glazed. If bending time was really a dominant ability, she would redo that night so it wouldn't happen. Connor was silent as the grave the rest of the night. Only a few words and he slept with his brows knitted together in worry. Even now as she looked to him, his face was disturbed. He mumbled something and pulled her closer until her body molded with hers.

"Um…" she reached behind her to boop his face, "Hey, boss—Connor! Wake up!"

Connor inhaled sharply, jerking in his wake. The novice thought for sure that he was going to roll over on her. After a few breaths, he let his vision adjust to the light and got on his forearms, rubbing his head in the reality of what happened just hours ago. To have his friend's blood stain his hands. He would have to live with this for the rest of his life. He suddenly snatched whatever was trying to touch his face and looked down to see novice pokerfaced. Then she smiled the best she could.

"Good morrow!" she had gotten used to the classic English… _maybe too classic_.

"…" Connor smiled and shook his head, sitting up to the edge of the bed, "Good morrow to you as well. Did you sleep well?"

"Actually… I was more worried about how you were sleeping." He didn't say anything at first. His shoulders tensed and he got to his feet with his back to her.

"I shall try to manage today. We must reach Monmouth before the day ends."

"Sounds like a plan," she stood and stretched, "I'll get my clothes ready after I take a bath of course."

"Tsipporah—"

"I like to stay hygienic, thank you. You take a bath, too." Then a knock sounded on the door and the young man went to answer it. Upon opening it, Angie showed up and was pale as the china at the dining room table.

"Emily, what is wrong?"

"Angie?"

She bit her lip in anxiety. In fact, she looked petrified as if she's seen a ghost. Her bottom lip looked like it went through war as she kept searching for words to say. She murmured some words, but Connor urged her to speak up.

"Emily, speak to me—what has happened?"

She finally gathered some courage to say something. Tsipporah circled around the young assassin to hear the news. Of course, it was like Angie to knock or barge in through another's bedroom; especially if she was close to them, but this time was different. She made her presence known with a sense of exigency. It was like the midnight ride of Paul Revere all over again. Were there redcoats? Loyalists somewhere? They were in the dark until she sputtered.

"Your cousin… _Kateri's_ here. And… she's not happy."

* * *

**March to Monmouth! _Whoo_! \(^.^)/**

**Okay, I know it's kind of early to anything like "whoo" when Connor's childhood friend had to die by his hands. Alienation from your own family is the worst-even more worse is trying to reconcile with your father who's your enemy. Very stressful. Too bad the OC never had that big of a problem, so all she can do is try to be by his side. No offense, but... when your life is pretty normal and things are fair with your family, and your friend/lover has it more divided than you; how do you comfort them? I mean... when you've****_ never_**** been anyone's crying shoulder... ****_meh_****, it's tough.**

**Try to get action and some sentiments in. I also got some feedback from the previous chapter(s) of people saying that my OC is a... BAMF. :D**

**First of all, I appreciate that because making sassy characters is my thing and I try my best, but to be called a BAMF... It's my first fanfiction using any OC I've made and I really appreciate it you guys, I really do! Got my feelings involved when people actually liked my fan shipping. OMG.**

**But we all know who the geniuses behind this game is-Ubisoft! Without them, there would be no fangirling over this and I wouldn't be inspired to make this fanfiction. I really loved this game! Thanks for following. See you in the next chapter! ;D**


	26. Chapter 26: Offset

"A good End cannot sanctify evil Means; nor must we ever do Evil, that Good may come of it."

**William Penn**

* * *

_Nothing but rigorous training happened the next few weeks they stayed there in at the Davenport manor of Homestead. Whenever the old man had to rest, he would and leave the young native boy to practice his reading and writing. It was something the Goth was good at. She was the head of the Poetry club back in middle school—a subject of literature was a really big deal for her. Seeing as this was the 18__th__ century, as she discovered, cursive was more dominant. Therefore, this writing session would take some doing. When Achilles came to her and told her to help her "guardian", she obliged. How hard can it be?_

_"What the fuck is this shit?" she gestured to the practice sheet that was given to her native attendant. He just looked at her innocently as if he did nothing wrong. It was sort of pissing her off badly. He shrugged his shoulders._

_"It's writing."_

_"Boy, I will slap you. How the hell did you learn the English language and not come across writing?"_

_"But I have come across—"_

_"Ugh! I know…" she pinched the bridge of her nose, "Brothers' Grimm—wait a minute... that can't be right. You sure it was the Brothers' Grimm you have?"_

_He took a single book from his side bag and handed it to her. Indeed it was. However, she recalled something that bothered her about this. If this is the early 1700s, then why is a book that wouldn't be officially written out until the 1780s in this boy's hands? There might be more to this time flip than she thought there would be. She came from the 21__st__ century, so she supposed that she won't be the only blast from the future. However, the surprises should be limited. She sighed and looked back at his writing._

_"Look…" she took the quill he used that was still wet with ink, "The lowercase b's have a loop to start and the l's, too. The b's loop towards the end rise and curl up—see?" He watched her hands closely and saw them trace a genuine form of a cursive letter. His eyes were so focused, taking note on how her hands were expertly re-writing words and spoke of how they should be written. The young teen made it known that writing is a complex subject when it comes to English—as the language itself is the most difficult language known to man. The native took in how her face became aglow despite her black attire and the strange raccoon rings around her eyes. She looked truly passionate about it. Unbeknownst to him, he smiled as she was finishing her short explanation. _

_"…The hell are you staring at?" she poked his face, aware that he didn't like "strangers" touching him, snapping him from his trance of her._

_"N-Nothing… you seem very passionate about reading and writing. And your hands…"_

_"What about my hands?" she snapped, unaffected._

_"You are a craftsman, aren't you?" _

_Tsipporah placed the quill down and stared for a moment. She shook her head, giving her bottom lip a quick lick. They really should be reviewing today's nights. Can she complain? She hasn't said a word about herself and he has said enough. He seemed very unique for the classic hero type. His father was the enemy, he had a rough past, and he's a mixed blood. Well, it doesn't get any better than this. Perhaps something about him will improve her character. She thought of it—of why unlikely people meet under timely or untimely circumstances, but then again, this can't be a complete coincidence because she's always wished for adventure and he… he wants to go out and fight for his people. They're going down the same consistent path in order to save the world. Well, damn; seems like the end result's going to be just as satisfying as the journey itself. First things first, though—he needed to gain some skills on top of the skills he has now. Can't fight an army with the level he's at right now. _

_"Yeah," she scratched her neck, "I'm an artist, writer—all that bullshit. I love it, too. Much more fun to experience something before having it painted down. I mean, if I had my sketchbook, I could show you. Anyway, moving on."_

_There was a knock on the door and the old man called for someone to get it. The native boy sighed and got to his feet, heading for the door. He timidly opened the door, but upon looking on the faces of the visitors, he instantly beamed and opened the door wider. The Goth got up as well since the "hero" didn't come back to the study those few minutes. When she got to the archway, she was tackled to the wooden floor. _

_"Agh! What the fuck?! This has got to stop—Oh, it's you guys." She gave a greeting smile, despite being in pain. It was only Kanen'tó:kon and Kateri. The old man was going to have a field day now. The teen slowly rose again, giving her new girl-friend a side hug. "What are you two doing over here?"_

_"We wanted to see what Ratonhnhaké ton was doing," the chubby one stated, "Clan Mother told us that you two went on an important journey together, so we traveled far to find you. You were gone for days—Kateri was worried sick." Tsipporah had never heard this one speak out before in English. Sort of amusing that he did, but wished he had when they first met. Maybe… maybe she should learn some Mohawk speak so she can better communicate with them. She had a feeling that she'll be seeing these people more often._

_"It is good to see you as well, my friends, but I am studying right now."_

_"Studying?" Kateri's eyes widened like a child's, "Studying what, dear cousin?"_

_"Reading, writing, 'rithmetic," the teen answered for him and started pushing him back into the study room when she heard footsteps sound from down the hall, "Okay, as long as this beautiful family is going to stay out here, maybe you should go back to studying so the old man doesn't hand me my ass. Understand?" The curious natives followed them and the teen forgot. "Oh… you guys need anything? Water, maybe?" They shook their heads and watched as their own was trying to write words on paper. It was as if they were watching a goldfish. To the Goth, it was getting pretty unnerving because she was explaining what to edit in the writing portion._

_"Sure you guys don't need anything?"_

_"Ratonhnhaké ton is writing!" Kateri cheered, "I want to learn how to write, too!"_

_"I think I'm content with just one of you guys fixing a whole gangbang of loops on paper, 'kay?"_

_"Excuse me?" Ratonhnhaké ton clenched his quill, "What was that?"_

_"You heard me," she sassed, "A gangbang of loops! That's what your writing looks like." The two natives stifled their laughter and her 'student' was just at the edge of his seat in a matter of seconds. He wondered if she was just doing this to get attention from his comrades. It was starting to get on his nerves. As he stood, his childhood friend came in between them, sensing the building tension. If they were stuck with each other, then they should be getting along and not get into fights like this constantly. The old man entered with a grimace to see who the visitors were. Just when he thought there would be some mild peace and quiet, more delinquents showed up._

_"If you are going to be this disruptive, then I suggest you study outside."_

_"Sorry…" his student bowed his head, "We shall take our leave, then." He gathered the notes, books—whatever he needed and nodded for them all to go out. Closing the door behind them, Tsipporah blinked at the onslaught of sunlight that overwhelmed the homestead. It highlighted every single blade of grass, tree, flow of the river ahead—it was a perfect picture. She just wished she had paints out to do so. She shrugged as the tree-hugger went on ahead with his cousin. She also heard the grass breaking from behind her and spun on her heel._

_"Peace, Tsipporah. It's only me."_

_"Oh. Hey, Ken," she leaned forward, "Aren't you gonna run to your girl or something? Talk to your friend…?"_

_"You will have to join my friend as well since you are helping him with his studies. And—what's wrong?" he looked at her face and dared not to touch her for it was rude to get in another's personal space in their custom. She sucked her teeth._

_"Well… y'know…" she gestured._

_"No, I do not," he shook his head._

_"Okay, I have to ask and this is completely random, but…" she inhaled, "How popular is he—Ray-Ray?"_

_"Ratonhnhaké ton? He is one of the best hunters in our village—the youngest one as well. When you appeared in the forest, he was teaching me how to hunt. Many of the young girls throw themselves at him. It is no surprise either—he is Clan Mother's only grandchild." Wait… what?_

_"The fuck—grandchild? He's practically a chief's grandchild, man!"_

_"In a way…" he watched her reaction with great amusement, "Why do you ask? Do you wish to throw yourself at him?" She responded with a glare, but couldn't exactly stray from the truth. Well, half of the truth. They walked along so they wouldn't fall behind._

_"He's… cute. I dunno, man. I'm always surrounded by handsome guys with some big social status-family, so this is nothing new. Except they were all assholes, but they like to hang around me. Maybe because I end up getting hit on by hot girls—who knows?" Th chubby native tried not to laugh at her expense. The spectacle and thought of her getting hit on by girls seemed a bit farfetched. "What?"_

_"It is nothing," he wiped his brow, "I was afraid for my friend and even more afraid to leave the valley, but he is determined. You seem to be good company, so why not be friends with him. He is the most humble person I know. His heart is true. To fight with him would be a waste of your journey. And from the looks of it, I believe he's taken into some liking in you."_

_"Why do you and girlfriend keep saying that?" then she stopped to actually take the words in. He has protected her from the danger of the woods so far. Several wolves were killed when she poked her head through the forest and saved her from getting impaled by a charging moose. Even when they first came here, he got hurt fending off a mountain lion. In the stables, he would always get them food. Yeah, he was much more capable than she was. He was indeed a skillful hunter, but his skills could only take him so far. He had to get stronger. She would see to it. "You know what, Ken? I guess he is. I'm not gonna lie—there was so much skinning involved when we were coming up here, it was just plain ridiculous. As for him liking me—maybe as a friend. I don't really seem like the… the special type of girl for anyone…"_

_Kanen'tó:koncame around until he was in front of her. This sort of alarmed the Goth as her eyes were lowered to the ground in thought. He looked a little hurt that she said what she said, but at the same time, it seemed that he made an accidental discovery. He lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes. The teen pouted at the sight._

_"So you do like him…"_

_"Shut up. Attracted maybe, but not in that sense. The feeling will probably pass."_

_"The feeling will probably take over. At least let him know."_

_"I let him know every-day that he's cute, his eyes are handsome—I just don't like him like that. There are more things I'm concerned about like… if I'll get in the way. I… I don't fight or kill, so what good am I here, dude?" His face softened and adjusted his weight to his left foot as he looked into her eyes. As he suspected, they were full of confusion and uncertainty. He may have been a novice at hunting whereas his friend was an expert, but one of his better skills was to read someone's state of mind to an extent. To him, she thought herself as being annoying and a nuisance. She didn't seem like the sort. He's seen her strength before in game. He smirked widely._

_"You protect each other. You and I know that we are not so good in what we're expected to do. I am not the greatest hunter, but how would I know if I've yet to try?"_

_"You had me running from a bear, you douche-bag," she said deadpanned._

_"What I mean to say is that whatever you are tasked with—you will get stronger as will Ratonhnhaké ton. You two have very strong personalities. You will succeed and I am certain of it." The teen blinked a few times and smiled. This guy's looked a little timid when she first saw him, but now was glad to have finally known of what the 'hero's' friends were like. The other two young natives ahead of them were already at the lake's edge, waiting for the others. After a few more minutes, they called after them._

_"Kanen'tó:kon?" she bit her lip, "You gonna come by here often?"_

_"When the weather is fair and there aren't many beasts afoot. Why?"_

_"You just… you're a nice guy to talk to when I'm not talking to… _that motherfucker over there_."_

_"He'll grow on you. There are times where he would want to be alone—a fair warning I shall give you."_

_"Okay, but… Can we be friends? I mean, minus the fact that you had me running from a bear—"_

_"Friends… with an outsider?" he nodded, "Sounds adventurous. You are the first outsider I've ever spoken to. I am glad to be in your consideration." He beamed. The young adolescent had to admit; when he smiled, she gained a little strength that afternoon._

* * *

"Emily, speak to me—what has happened?"

"Your cousin… Kateri's here. And… she's not happy."

The young native women stood inside by the door with war written all over her face. In fact, she looked as if she's come to kill. Connor looked over the blonde's shoulder and watched her wait. She was calm. Too calm. Her eyes were filled with intense, mixed emotions. She sniffed and came over to the stairs, beckoning her cousin to come down and meet her with her hand. The novice silently cracked her fingers, not liking her invitation one bit. She expected the wife to come back with a vengeance, but Kateri was a different story—she was mad. She was more impulsive than anything. Once something came to mind with her, she'd do it without a second thought. Connor sharpened up. Maybe not entirely, but he brushed Angie aside to meet Kateri at the bottom.

Every step down, the native woman seemed to have gained more heat in her face. It made the women upstairs a bit nervous. The old man was in the sitting room, aware of what was happening while the maid quietly looked away. This was a family matter, so they should not interfere. He was finally in front of her.

"And how do you fare this morning, cousin?" he blankly asked. Her eye twitched, looking like she wanted to scream in his face instead of having a civil conversation. She took a deep breath.

"Well…" she huffed, placing her hands on her hips and swayed, "Mother calmed me down last night and we had the men gathered to honor my husband. I thought I was alright until… my sons asked me what happened to their father…" she grinded her teeth together, "And what do you suppose I should tell them, Ratonhnhaké ton?" He looked away as she explained, sounding a lot more fumed, "How do I explain to them that you killed him? How do I explain to them that you killed him in the forest like a wild animal!?"

"Kateri…"

"No!" she pushed him away, "I thought you were going to try to talk to him, but you only killed him instead. I didn't believe a word that Charles Lee had spoken because I know who he is." She circled around on the floor and stopped, seeing that the observers were there. "And where were you in all of this? Just watching?"

The novice curled up a lip. At that moment, she could care less if Kateri was going to pull out a blade, musket—it didn't matter. Tsipporah jumped over the railing and landed on the wooden floor. She rose to meet the native's feral eyes. Being afraid and full of guilt was tiring.

"We're going to Monmouth to help the Patriots," then she turned to Connor, "I'll get the horses, boss—"Kateri pushed her back. "This is hardly the time, dude."

"Really? You're just going to help the Patriots still? After all that's happened?"

"I am sorry if this displeases you, Kateri, but I have to do this. Charles Lee is planning to push back the rebellion and I must be present for them to have a victory."

"Are you touched in the head? Kanen'tó:kon's blood still wets our very doorstep and you're just going to go out to protect the Patriots once more? To stop the British? To stop Charles Lee?" He wandered on the spot as she spoke and the novice wondered if he was going to answer that.

"Yes." He bluntly answered with a fiery resolution in his eyes and a rare sternness in his voice. Time itself seem to freeze in that moment. Kateri was taken aback by his words. He really would. He would aid those that would harm the tribe even if it meant their destruction. The novice watched her movements. Her shoulders trembled uncontrollably and she quickly reached for her knapsack on her side, brandishing a blade. She lunged forward on the ball of her foot to push up and forward to land a precise blow—

Tsipporah suddenly had a flashback of last night; she didn't want to relive it. She had to do something she could have down. She jabbed a blow with her right index and middle fingers together into the native woman's arm, causing her to drop her knife, then proceeded to give quick punches to her side. It was too fast for the other to anticipate or follow, therefore, she fell over in confusion. Kateri grunted in frustration as her cousin picked her up from the floor and into his arms. It was futile to fight back for her limbs were exhausted. Connor didn't flinch or try to stop what was happening. It was better that she was stopped in a non-lethal manner. More so, he did not want her children motherless. Such a pain should never befall anyone else of his tribe. He turned his cousin to the maid of the manor and she nodded in understanding.

"Give her a few hours and she'll be moving around normally again," the novice went out the door, "I'll see you at the stables, boss."

Connor looked back to the old man. If he remembered correctly, his father came by with something and left in a matter of minutes. That would be a discussion left for another day. He headed for the basement to retrieve his standard attire and his weapons. His cousin wondered how he could act so passive about this. Kanen'tó:kon was his best friend—his first and closest friend growing up. He brushed it off like it was nothing. It angered her further. Achilles waved to the maid to have her put in the sitting room since she was going to be here for a while before returning. She couldn't move her limbs so well. All she could do was writhe and jerk until she was comfortable. Kateri covered her eyes for she felt more tears fall from them. Angie went back to gather her rifles, knowing that anything she'd say would not be held accountable.

"I know it is far from my place to say, but what he has done is no small matter for him. In fact, they were both very upset about these turn of events."

"You lie, old man," she choked, "He killed him in cold blood…"

"Child, I have no reason to defend Connor for any reason, but he is of humble heart. I must admit, that with his strength there is some pride to be placed in him, but he is by far the worst liar I have ever come across and his observer believes it to be so, too. If you take his words as false, then you will only prove to everyone how the apple does not fall too far from the tree." He carefully stood with his cane and turned to leave from the sitting room. "If you do not believe him amongst others—as a member of his closest and prominent family to him—then I do not believe he had no other business than to try to keep you safe. That boy is willing to kill his remaining parent in order to ensure your safety. If that means nothing to you, then I suppose his endeavors are truly for naught."

Kateri bit her lip and looked into the fireplace. She… she would be no different from her mother if she goes against Ratonhnhaké ton now, but he still helps the Patriots—the men who sought to destroy them. What on earth was he doing now? She was unsure of what she should do right now. Charles Lee is their enemy, but he warned the villagers that they were in danger. Who should she believe….?

* * *

Once everything was set, the two went to Monmouth in a matter of hours, which were spent either to eat or to relieve themselves. The novice would regularly urge the assassin to do so, but he would often hold for half the trip. When they reached the designated area, they found Loyalists perched at every doorstep of town. This was troublesome. The two resorted to climbing the rooftops to avoid detection. It was too early in the day for one's notoriety to plummet. When a roof tiling slipped from above, one of the guards looked about and searched their eyes to the roof. To their dismay, they only saw an eagle watching and jerking its head before flying off into the trees. After a while, the novice sighed, morphing back.

"That was close, but why are there Loyalists parked here? I thought the Patriots were making camp nearby. Isn't this risky for them?"

"Yes, it is. I wonder if they know of the guards wandering here. There may be a traitor among them." She recognized that look in his eyes. She'd seen it in the alpha wolf's eyes when he was always ready to attack, pillage—kill. He wore those eyes that night, but once the fighting dies down—his followers' claim—he is like their father to care for everyone. It would boggle her mind that the two were no different. A smile unknowingly came across her face and they dropped down from the tree quietly now that the guards weren't watching. In a sprint, they made it to the encampment where Lafayette was straightening out his men. He looked pretty worn out.

"Connor, my friend! _Ah_, and mademoiselle!" he gently took her palm and kissed it. The young native still didn't take too well with the inappropriate contact. The novice still didn't fully grasp the concept of not getting to touchy with strangers in his culture, but then again, her home is of French dominance. "You have come just in time to bear witness to our glorious victory." He gestured to his well-placed cannons and his men running back and forth, prepping for battle.

"Where is Charles Lee?" the novice scoffed, thinking it to be his catchphrase. He's been saying that ever since training when he'd get the chance to interrogate people.

"That _batard_," Lafayette huffed, "He shows up in the middle of our preparations and just takes charge. Screams at everyone to advance and then rides away. I am left to pick up the pieces." So Lee was gone again. God-damn it all.

"What do we do, boss? We lost his trail again by an hour…"

"If he is gone, then we have lost our chance to eliminate him."

"Eliminate him or make a truce?" she said, deadpanned with her hands on her hips. His lip curled up.

"What?"

"You know, that thing you do before you actually kill your targets where you spare their life the first time—"

"I will do no such thing."

"That's what you said about Johnson and Pitcairn… and Hickey… Now they're pushing daisies because they spat on your mercy." She thinned her lips, seeing that Connor was less than thrilled to hear her say such things. "But…" she lifted a finger, "I guess that's why I…"

"You what?" he started innocently.

"Mohawks aren't supposed to get all mushy outside their homes, but you get my point right? You're the only person I know who think about people as people even if they're your enemy. I like that about you. You think your adversaries as human, too." He looked away with his mind reeling back to last night—to how she held him when he was in a fit. For years, all he had let out was his anger, but with this woman he had shown more. He would deny the case despite having told her enough. It was as if his body was not his own. He had his arms wrapped around her and wept into her bosom. His stomach churned at the thought of her teasing him about it later in life. She must have sensed his thoughts because she lightly punched his arm like a bro.

"Don't worry, tree-hugger. Your secret's safe with me." She assured him. He wanted to say something back. Something, but he had some trouble finding the words. There was no time to anyway. Lafayette paced around until something caught his attention.

"Where did they come from?" he watched as legions of British soldiers were marching towards the encampment at the front. He shouted orders for they were not ready to fight, "Send word that we are falling back! Everyone to me. Now! Now!"

"I will hold the area while you bring them to safety!" Connor was ready to charge the enemy head on, but the French general had called for his finest men to assist him and ensure their victory. The novice shrugged her shoulders to the fact that because the Brotherhood was a secret society, she supposed that Connor was just another young man looking to play hero when—in fact—he is a one-man army of his own. They readied the most available cannon as fast as they could and the young assassin waved for the novice to assist them. And assisted she did. She quickly took the gunpowder and loaded the cannon, and steadfast she did roll the cannon-balls in within minutes. Hours spent on the Aquila made this no difficult chore. The men were a bit astonished to see a woman of her slender stature work so fast with iron that nearly weighed more than their own body-mass combined. Connor took pride in her capability to do so, and then ordered for the men to ready to fire. The men snapped from their bewilderment and got to work.

The rest of the Patriot-aides were firing with their muskets as the cannon were constantly being reloaded and targeting to fire. More and more redcoats were flooding into the dirt path ahead. The men had not much to go on, but they had to hold back their foe as much as they could. It didn't take long before they were running out of cannonballs. It also happened at the wrong time as well for the British troops were still advancing. The novice gave her boss a look and jerked her shoulder to the redcoats. He shook his head, turning down her suggestion.

"Boss…" she pressed, "There's a shit-ton of redcoats coming…" she promised to not use her power because of his worry for her. She would never break a promise to him, but now she really needed his permission. He pulled her arm instead, dragging her to urge the men to fall back. "Boss…" she didn't want to be rendered useless.

"I will not allow you to hurt yourself again."

"And I can't let any more men die when I know I can stop as much as you can…" she sucked some air in, "But a promise is a promise. I'll just kick some ass." She wrenched her arm out of his hold and ensued to kick the sternum of one of the mooks. Connor sprinted down the road, yelling for the others to escape and fend off the rest of the Regulars.

"Go!" he stabbed two officers, "I can deal with this!" More men came storming in and one of them suddenly fell, tripping the rest and putting them in disorder. Connor wasn't sure what the cause of this was, but he kept parrying the men who tried to surround him. Another jumped on his back to throw him off. It had little effect for he dropped him in a suplex. Then more of the expert foot soldiers came afoot, swinging their axes. Before one could lay a fatal blow to the assassin's body, they were cut down quickly. Connor jumped to his feet when someone before him unsheathed a rather large blade.

"_Aveline_?" he questioned upon the womanly figure clad in black leather. They stood back to back when more of the redcoats came. "What are you doing here on Monmouth?"

"I shall explain later lest we be dead," she cut down a handful of men with a fair swipe of her machete. Elbowing another, she knocked another in the nasal cavity and cut at his nape hard enough to decapitate him. They're enemy seemed to swarm at them for quite a while until the novice was able to reach the two assassins. She, too, was happy to see Aveline despite their circumstances. By the end, the two were nearly out of breath. A man clad in red was trying to sneak his way to Connor, aiming to have his head. He swung his axe, but the novice kicked him in the loins and he groaned in pain. She then punched at his nerves to freeze him on the ground. He was in shock now. She took off her glove, seeing that there was no other enemy coming any time soon. Her hand and fingers were together, shapely as a spear, targeting his chest. The vulnerable man was fearful, begging to not meet such an end. The novice almost did not listen if not for her boss grabbing her wrist as her nails were already digging into his skin.

"Tsipporah… enough," he spoke into her ear, "We have killed them all."

"Not all of them," she spiked with eyes holding no endearment to the man's life.

"I said that's enough!" She froze and slowly put her arm down to a neutral pose, sheathing her elbow blades that were soaked in blood.

"A very deadly partner you have there on your arm, Connor."

"…" he pulled the novice to her feet, "Why are you here, Aveline? I have not seen you since our little misadventure in Tortuga."

"An English man that you were traveling with before told me to aid you for he feared for the worst. It seems that he was right—the man that has your face that is."

"My father…?" he furrowed his brows together.

"Yes. He said that your current partner might hold you down to some extent."

"Sounds like Haytham." Tsipporah sucked her teeth, "Um, boss… we should go and check on the men, don't you think?" She comically gestured her arms to where the men escaped to. Where they were, there was silence all around. He sighed and threw the novice over his shoulder walking back, making both women chuckle awkwardly.

"Connor… put me down!" she fussed as her hair hung in her face.

"You're insufferable and unpredictable. This is better than keeping an eye on you." She couldn't fight him; only lift her head halfway to see Aveline's amused face. The other assassin didn't bother to say anything. This was mere entertainment as she was aware of Connor's naïve behavior around women. Only with the opposite sex does one find how childish he truly can be. The novice didn't find this at all laughable. She felt all the blood rush to her head. How long was he going to hold her like this walking down the road?

"Agh! You better not fart," she growled, "God, put me down, Shrek!"He finally put her on the ground again—not as gently either. Talk about strong-armed. She sputtered about how unnecessary that was and got to her feet, dusting off the grass. The French general greeted them, praising them for their excellence in saving the men that remained. He couldn't thank him enough for his efforts. The assassin, as humble as he was, thanked the women who gave their hand in the fight. Both turned away, blushing, but something caught the duo's attention instead. The Commander in Chief was here, checking on the men. He paced with his back turned until he recognized the voices behind him.

"Connor?"

"Oh, it's you," the novice sassed, stepping back to ignore him.

"Charles Lee has betrayed you," Connor started, "He forced retreat in the midst of battle—hoping the loss would take the lives of your men and see you relieved of your command."

"What?!" Washington genuinely sounded surprised and the novice face-palmed at his reaction.

"I am sure he will come and spin a tale—saying he was outnumbered or I was somehow to blame. All lies. I will say it one last time—that man is your enemy and he will not stop until you are dead or dishonored." Lafayette second that since Lee was acting strange earlier this day, but the commander tried to stay 'civil' about it.

"I will investigate these allegations at once." Really? Really? The novice wanted to cry, laugh, get mad—she wasn't sure which one to do. Aveline kept silent, having her doubts suddenly about the Patriots' leader. If a threat was made on his life, then he should do something about it right this moment. Even Connor explained that the time for that has long passed and gritted his teeth. The commander had to disagree. If they were to go out for Lee's blood now, then it would make them no different than their enemies. As if. They were the Brotherhood—Assassins. _Nothing is true. Everything is permitted._ They weren't bound by any government of the modern world. The young assassin walked off, resolute on taking Lee's life himself if the Patriots would do nothing about it. The two women followed after.

"Enjoy your victory, commander," he said coldly, "It will be the last I deliver you."

…

"There are others objectives I must tend to, Connor, but it was good to see the both of you again… little brothers." Aveline gave a gentle smile as they came up to the entrance of homestead. The novice and her rode the same horse, and stopped near the stables, getting off. Tsipporah snickered at the fact that Aveline was at least ten years older than they were. She authentically felt like another older sister in this timeline. It almost made her feel a sense of euphoria thinking about it. "Is there something the matter?"

"Oh no… just… you kind of remind me of my sister back home."

"Do not fear, _mon chéri. _I am certain that you will return home once the Templars of this colony die. Connor has yet to fail and that is why the spirits send you—to watch him walk on the right path."

"But…"

"Hmm? _Mais quoi_?"

"I don't think I know what's right for him anymore."

"Don't you ever say such things, _Séphora_," she enunciated, "You follow no government and no group of the modern society. You follow what is right for the path of humanity."

"Then… why do you fight, Aveline?" she had to ask. She had never once asked why she was a member of the Assassins even when she had them on another mission after the Massacre. She was basically an older sister for both the youths back in the day. The novice was pretty proud to see a young black woman go out into the world in the name of justice, but what justice? She didn't want to assume.

"I fight against slavery. To liberate those bound by the government against their will. You this is not the life our people wanted to live. They were forced into it, but just as there are Caucasian men seeking our eternal submission, there are also those who urge us to speak out and fight for our freedom. When Connor told me of why he wanted to be an Assassin, I gave him a world view of what he was to expect—you remember, _oui_?" Tsipporah nodded. "Of course, you are from the future. Therefore, you are aware of the struggles ahead than anyone else here, I gather. Are you listening, _petite sœur_?"

"Hell yeah, I'm listening. Your voice is still sexy as fuck—holla atcha girl. _Voulez-vous aller au lit avec moi ce soi_?" At least her mentee was stronger and braver than before. The last sentence had her laughing, but she had to ask pertaining to it.

"So how are you and Connor doing?"

"They made love in the woods!" Angie jumped in, "Oh yeah, they confessed their love and—**Agh!** **Babe!"** The novice swung her sheathed blades at her companion, threatening to cut her open. She ran out the blonde as she continued to spew gossip. "_It's true_! She loved every minute of it! Connor thanked me after!"

"Why do you have to tell people my business!?" she laughed in her fury, "I don't go announcing your business because people already know your record anyway!" The French Assassin raised her brows in shock. Guess her 'little brother' wasn't so innocent after all. Even when she and the novice would play-flirt when he was around, he would just stare and tilt his head. Either he's truly grown up or the blonde had something to do with convincing him to do such an act. She caressed the mare's nose as she watched the girls go back and forth like a running gag. The novice looked pretty determined to spill blood. After much contemplation, she sought to break it up, but then another woman interfered with her presence alone.

"Kateri?" the novice looked up as she straddled Angie, "Are you okay?"

"Where is my cousin?" she whimpered, "I… I have something to say to him."

"Say what?" Angie toppled the other, "You're not gonna kill him are you?"

"No! No… I just need to speak with him. I've wronged him. I do not want to antagonize as my mother did years ago. He is my only cousin…" The observers looked at each other… then back at the native woman. The novice got up and took Kateri's hand.

"Okay, I'll take you to him. He's out in the woods hunting." She took the native woman down to the hunting grounds of homestead. Kateri took a moment to drink in the scenery that she hasn't lived in for some time. She remembered traveling to this place before with her husband when they were young with the sole purpose of finding their close friend. He may have been training then, but she would miss him and her new acquaintance. That was when there was the four of them. Her mind wandered until they were within Connor's reach. His eyes were facing front, watching a hare walk into the trap he's made.

"Connor," the novice whispered.

"Shh…" he kept watching.

"What the hell you think I'm whispering for? Your cousin's here and she want to talk to you."

"What?" his voice reached the hare's ears and it jerked its head up, its eyes alert. It propped up its legs, readying itself to leave the premises. Connor swiftly pulled out an arrow from his quiver and set his bow. Within a half-second, he shot the hare that tried to escape his reach. The young assassin got out of the bush to skin his prize, praying to its corpse. "What is it that you want, Kateri? I understand if you are still angry at me. It is understandable."

"Yes, but what is a misunderstanding is you killing Kanen'tó:kon in cold blood. Achilles tells me more than what I thought I knew of you. All these years we've spent together and I almost threw it all away for I almost became stiff-necked like my mother. For that, I am sorry. I have lost a husband, my children—their father, and you—your closest thing to a brother. You miss him, too, do you not, Tsipporah?"

"Hm?" she choked, "Yeah… he was cool. Teased the shit out of me about liking Connor a whole lot, but he was cool. I wish… I wish I did something else and maybe—"

"I do not want to dwell on the past. He is resting now."

"Yes, he is," Connor nodded, "I shall find the time to visit his grave."

"You would not have the time to now—I gather. Very well. I shall await your visit—"her cousin turned his head to the side, sensing something rush in his general direction. These grounds were rich with activity and whatever animal was coming towards him made no noise, but was sure to tackle him at full force. He ducked, quickly grabbing what had come in contact with him and threw the creature down on his back in front of him, pressing a foot to its heart without a second thought. Once the excitement was cleared, he saw that it was Norris (Maurice, but he changed his name) that was at his mercy. Both women stared for minute. Then at each other. Then they laughed, slapping their knees. Myriam walked up, rolling her eyes at her lover's expense.

"I told you not to sneak up on him, Norris." She stopped as she looked upon her old roommate and held her hand to her chest. So many memories were flooding back. Myriam threw her arms around her old friend's neck. "Oh! Alice, my friend! How are you?" she cried and laughed, but Kateri was more concerned of what this gag was about.

"It is good to see you as well. May I ask what is going on here?"

"Norris here asked me if he—Well, you explain, sweetie." He was still on the ground, so Connor helped him up.

"Yes! Connor, she said yes!" he gave a masculine punch to the assassin's arm and the novice along with the native woman were still confused. "I asked Myriam here to marry me and she said 'yes'." Both women mouthed an "_oh_" and slowly smiled.

"So I'm guessing that this is part where I jump up and down like a crazy person and congratulate you for agreeing on the last legal form of slavery this world has to offer, right?" they all stared at her blankly. Guess this joke isn't as funny as it is in the 21st century. Too soon for this joke, huh? "Well, congratulations to the happily engaged couple, huh? Huh?" she elbowed Connor comically and he gave a rare smile. "So when's the wedding taking place? What are you going to wear, dear Myriam?"

"Well, if you're that determined to know, then maybe you should help with the preparations. You helped Alice with hers, am I right?" Kateri timidly nodded, going back to those fond memories of her wedding ceremony. The novice scratched her head at how the mood completely whiplashed from an apology to a set wedding engagement. The day was going pretty good so far. Then she had an amusing thought.

"Where's the reception gonna be?"

"At the Inn of course—perfect place for a residential reception," Myriam beamed.

"Hey, good news for Angie—there's gonna be booze at this wedding." The couple laughed and said that they really wanted Alice to attend. Maybe to even bring her riled up mother, too. They gave the trio a nod before leaving the hunting grounds. "This means everyone here I know will be happily married. Even the old man was married. God, I feel so old right now." Kateri looked to between her cousin and the novice.

"So why don't you two get married and have children, too?"

"What?!" they both jolted. Kateri stumbled back from the response. She thought they'd jump at the concept already since they came together and were a couple. Were they not planning on marriage? She giggled a little that they were actually shocked to hear such a sentimental suggestion. She made a devious grin like her mother did when she was up to something. The novice paled as much as possible with Connor. "No… **No**… Stop smiling like that! _Stop smiling like that_!"

"You two…"

"There is too much to be done. We must find Charles Lee and—"

"You speak of Charles Lee so obsessively, cousin. You are nearing the age of twenty-four—you are practically ripe for marriage. Do it now before it's too late." The novice wanted to step in, but the native women slapped a hand onto her face before she could say anything. "Ratonhnhaké ton, I will not say it again—if you love this girl, then you will take her hand in marriage. You've been playing dumb for about a decade. I will not stand for it anymore. You always told me to follow my heart, now you must follow yours." He grimaced at her words. It wasn't that simple to do so. Once he had all the Templars killed, Tsipporah and Angie will disappear from this time. Everything will be as it was before they came along; no more will he see the face of his beloved. He couldn't deny wanting much more with her, but that would be a distant dream that might not come true. Unless… His observer didn't take kindly to the look on his face. It was like he was getting an idea that shouldn't even be legal. She knew that look. He would look to side, shade his eyes and that would signal to him either (a) sparing his enemy or (b) doing something way more batshit crazy than "a".

"I could not, Kateri," he honestly said and she squealed, dissatisfied.

"Why not?"

"Yeah, Connor, why not?" the novice was especially mad as if he was saying no about a marriage proposal. It felt more brutal to hear than a dying man's breath. "What, I'm not good enough for you? Is there someone else in the picture—"

"No, Tsipporah. As I told you before: you are already everything to me and more. Only…"

"Only?" she poked him.

"I would not make a good husband. I've not the time. One day, perhaps." The novice and his cousin stared blankly. Then at each other. Then they turned back to Connor… laughing until they rolled on the ground. He narrowed his eyes and waited for them to stop. When some minutes passed, he picked them both off the ground. "Alright, you've had your laugh. Though, I do not see how this is funny at all." In truth, he was glad that his cousin was able to laugh still despite all that has happened. He feared that the war would dangerously churn her heart for the worst. His observer never changed, however. She just grew more brisk with time. They took a second to breathe.

"That is a fucking lie, Connor. You think you'd make a terrible husband? What, you think I'd make the perfect wife? No, really, man—I need you. I know I'll go when all of this ends, but… I would totally marry you." He released the hold he had on both of them and looked to Sipsy in eye, softening. His eyes sparked some sort of hope or sentiment; he wasn't sure what it was. The novice took it as a positive reaction. "Aw… he's getting all emotional because of what I said. That's fine, boss. I'm having a lot of feelings, too." It quickly turned into a steely glare when she started getting too over-dramatic about it and she stiffened up. "Okay… I said a shit-load of emotions. I'm gonna stop and turn back to the manor right now…" and she walked steadfastly out of the forest.

"Ratonhnhaké ton, why not marry her? You seem more at peace with her. You love her very much, do you not?"

"I should say that it is a private matter, but you already know enough. She is very attentive and respects my space, yet… Lately, I have been in need of her presence."

"My husband tells me these things when we were young. You must ask her, lest you hurt her feelings for your inaction. Many girls of our home would throw themselves your way, asking to be your future bride, remember?"

"That was when I had no interest in women."

"My feelings are hurt, cousin," she pouted, "Please. I had my chance of happiness and I am glad of it. Now you must grasp it as well. She is a good woman and you are a good man. Why not consummate?"

"It is as I said, Kateri—it is a private matter, but once I complete my task, she and Emily will return home… and I may never see them again."

"You mean…" she stomped her foot, "Don't give me that, cousin. Tell her—"

"That is all, Kateri. That is all. But perhaps if I do something about it the Brotherhood's relationship with the Templars, maybe this will benefit not only the chances of peace, but…"

"She might stay and marry you! _Yay_!" she cheered.

"Yes. No! That is not what I…" He face-palmed.

* * *

Where the Templars took refuge and where their base laid, they gathered in secret as always. There weren't many of them left for the Assassin that sought to draw their blood until nothing was left of them had cut their numbers. It was of little consequence, but they knew the truth—their existence will never diminish. They still remained a threat to the colonies as long as they drew breath. It was turning to evening with haste to the Grand Master. His closest partner brought about the news of what had happened at Monmouth. So they lost again? No matter. As long as there were those who wished for the world to be as it is, then there is no withdrawing in their numbers—in their principles. Haytham watched out his quarter's window as the sun seemed to touch the horizon. Their fort was near the coast of New York, thus he could see the sea very well. His mind reeled with collective memories of how he spent some time with his son. A knife was buried rather too deep in his heart that his son wanted nothing more to do with him. He ultimately wanted his son to live. He knew that the time would come—should they continue as enemies—that he will have no choice but to kill his own flesh and blood. The very thought pained him and quietly spoke his lover's name to the air.

"Sir?" the raven-haired Templar called out, "Are you disappointed? Make no mistake; I shall remedy my folly of today's events." His leader raised his palm.

"Worry not, Charles. Should the Assassin get in our way again, we shall handle it discreetly. He is trained to do the impossible. As am I. However, there is something we could use as leverage, as it seems."

"What would that be, sir?"

"His observer—The Eyes of the First Civilization. Out of the two that assist him, one closely follows and ironically has a very sentimental partnership with the Assassin. Not only that, but I have made a close observation that they are most likely under a strange punishment from Those Who Came Before."

"Do tell, Mr. Kenway," Lee fancied a sinister grin, heeding Haytham's every word. He explained how they seem to share the same instance of pain and how they appear to stay shoulder to shoulder in dire situations; making sure that they do not stray from each other. The relationship between the Brotherhood and the Civilization are remedial for the chance of humanity keeping to their ways in independence. The Eyes have no need in piggy-backing those she watches unless… _Of course_. He's seen this before. Such impudence to their factions made them no more worthy to represent them. They could use her now. Apparently, her powers were not affected. Her hair had taken the form of how a fully evolved Eyes, but has yet to unlock all of her abilities due to her loyalty… to Connor.

"What do you propose we do, Mr. Kenway?" Lee stroked his beard.

"Create a window, of course."

* * *

**That... can't be good at all. Looks like Norris & Myriam are gonna get married and Alice is gonna come back. Looks like she wants to get her cousin and her friend into marriage, too. Um... sort of impossible to do when you have a dangerous profession. It is a big commitment, but hey, even the President got a wife and kids. Gotta have an heir to the Brotherhood throne, or in a fangirl sense: have your OC make babies with the sexiest beast in all of the 18th century! XD**

***ahem* I mean, sure. He needs descendants, but... won't the observers need to go home soon? So what's gonna happen? Oh, well. You'll see. Just a heads up though-there are a total of thirty chapters. Almost there. Plus, there is gonna be the release of the Tyranny of George Washington and seeing how Connor looks in that... *inhales deeply* **

**I'M GONNA MAKE A SEQUEL! :'D**

**I heard that the game isn't too long since it's a downloadable, so... yeah. See you in the next chapter.**


	27. Chapter 27: Homestead

_"The more I know of the world, the more I am convinced that I shall never see a man whom I can really love."_

**Jane Austen**

* * *

For a moment, she had forgotten where she was. The day was so quiet—peaceful that everything else didn't seem to be of a bother. One would be concerned of being away from home for so long, but this was the life. Everything up north was so natural without the disturbance of constant city lights and restless neighbors. Perhaps staying for so long was beneficial after all. Never did she feel so healthy being without chips and soda for weeks on end, only to be replaced with natural fruits, vegetables, and freshly baked breads. Tsipporah pondered on all that has happened so far, finishing another 5" statuette as she sat on a thick branch of the forest of homestead. Without realizing it, she dozed off due the tranquil quietness. She couldn't help but smile at such a rare occasion…

**"TSIPPORAH!"**

"AUGH! –huh?" the novice nearly fell off from 15 ft, but the sudden heart-attack would have killed her first. She darted her eyes around, searching for the bastard who dared to break her peace. She sniffed and looked below her feet, frowning deeply. "What?" her attitude died down, seeing that it was her boss.

"You must go to Prudence. Stay with her until I can fetch the doctor!"

"Wait, what's wrong with Prudence?" she recalled the colored woman who had come with her husband, looking for a place to raise animals, a farm, and possibly a child of their own. They have succeeded and for months the woman's belly continued to swell with life. Come to think of it… _it has been a while_…

The novice jumped down from her place and landed beside him.

"Alrighty, boss. Where is she?"

"Just down this path," he pointed, "You must stay with her. Go!" she jerked a little at his urgency and ran down the given direction. The novice picked up as much speed as she thought possible; nearly tempted to turn in order to catch the wind, but resisted to do so. After a moment or two, she had finally reached Prudence who was cringing in her stance. Of course; she was in labor. No wonder Connor panicked—he probably never dealt with this problem before. She went to her side, seeing the woman groaning in pain.

"Prudence, don't worry. Connor's coming with your husband and the doctor."

"Oh lord…" she shut her eyes tightly, "It hurts…"

"Ok, just calm down; take slow, deep breaths," she gestured with her, "Now just lay down—"

"I can't! It hurts!" she screamed at the novice, squeezing her hand.

"Hey! I am not about to hear this bullshit! You better brace yourself and lie down! We're gonna do this together, understand me?!" Prudence nodded with her eyes wide open and followed the labored breaths until she was completely lying down. It was painful at first for she could feel every nerve around her pelvis twist and curl with each little movement. The novice let her hand go for a minute to take off her coat for the woman in labor to use for a pillow since the actual cloth is quite long. Prudence nearly cried out some tears and held her stomach, pulling at her clothes.

"Whoa! Ok… no need to start tearing clothes…" nursing surely did not prepare her for this moment. She held her hand the entire time as Prudence wrinkled her face. Tsipporah was starting to wonder what was keeping the men. When she looked up, a small crowd had brought up some things from their own homes along with Connor, Prudence's husband, and the town's doctor. Both women sighed in relief.

"Alright, you've made her comfortable. Good, but she'll have to sit up a little." The doctor was handed someone's soft pillow from one of the neighbors. The novice placed it on her lap for Prudence to lie on and fixed herself to sit up more. Her husband, Warren, went to her side with a purpose. Connor on the other hand was pacing around with worry. Tsipporah tried not to laugh.

"Prudence, just open a little wider…" the doctor was closely inspecting her pelvis and the woman braced herself. "Alright…" the doctor continued to get his instruments out and work as the novice was trying to keep the patient calm as well as her husband did. Angie came around to wipe the sweat off of her face as the woman was ready to push.

"This is gonna hurt a lot, so put this in your mouth," Angie put some folded cloth in the woman's mouth to bite down on. "Ok, you can do it, Pruddy. Push!" she boasted and the novice rolled her eyes. The other townspeople felt their heart stopped as the woman began to push with a purpose and with it, came some blood. Connor stopped in mid-stride when he realized what was happening after Dr. White announced that the baby was crowning. The crowd began to back out, seeing that the soon-to-be-mother was crying to the point where she was on the verge of shortness of breath. After the last push, the baby finally emerged as did Ellen and her daughter (one of the townsfolk) with a clean bucket of heated water and more cotton cloths. The novice thinned her lips on how much fabric was being used at this moment…Soon, with some cleaning and inspection, Prudence and Warren finally had their child in their arms.

"A healthy baby boy!" the doctor gladly boasted, "Congratulations."

"_Ugh_…" the novice had to roll on the ground for a bit, a little stressed that she had to have a fair seat to witness childbirth. The assassin was no different for he was either put aside or was hunting constantly to know of what it truly looked like. "Congrats on the little dude. Whatcha gonna name him?"

The couple looked to their young one and smiled. Even with all that pain surging through her body, Prudence still managed to glow.

"_Hunter_. We'll call him 'Hunter'."

…

Once everything was clear with the lucky couple and their newborn child near the afternoon, the novice sighed and went back into the trees to carve her statuette. That was one way to spice up the morning, but it also had her thinking. This entire time Prudence was aglow with pride in motherhood. That all went downhill the moment she saw her blood spill everywhere on the grass. She felt happy to see that the child was healthy—the child that they've been waiting for. It made her wonder. Wonder if she could be that happy someday when everything goes back to "normal". Who was she kidding? After learning of the Templar's existence, there's no way things can go back to normal. What she's seen cannot be unseen and nothing can be undone. The only thing to do now was to ride it out. And what the hell did Connor have to call her out for something she was mildly inexperienced in? Bet money that he didn't know what to do since he was sitting aside in horror as the baby's head was crowning—

"I'm gonna go see that baby…" she jumped from the tree with her art supplies in her arms and rushed to the couple's farm where they lived. The farm they raised was abundantly fresh with many vegetables and some fruits. From time to time, the novice would be encouraged to bring them new seeds to broaden trade and harvest. When she reached their porch, she poked her nose about; hoping to see them around. No doubt they were either letting their newborn take in the air of homestead or letting it rest in the crib they've been dusting like crazy ever since the town's carpenter was finished with it. The novice heard a small commotion of coo's and awes after walking around the farm's perimeter. She leaned in forward to see in the yard and saw Prudence and Warren gives their full attention to their new child, whilst the proud mother openly breastfeed it. Tsipporah widened her eyes a bit in fascination, but deeply frowned seeing that Connor was there. She backed away slowly, not wanting him to see her, but she knew better.

"Ah, Tsipporah!" he called her. She silently cursed at herself and came up to them, trying not to scowl.

"Yo."

"Connor heard you come around here. Were you curious to see Hunter?" Warren raised his brows.

"…" she stared at the tiny baby in the mother's arms, "His head is so small."

"Ha ha! Indeed!"

"Such a miracle that everyone came together. Truly, this is a blessing. Thank you for sending help—all of you. Though, I should thank Connor for finding me first in the woods."

"You are most welcome—"

"Would you like to hold him, Connor?" Prudence offered and he paled a little.

"I suppose…" he held out his arms mechanically as the proud mother gently lent him her child, but not without seeing the nervousness in his face. She chuckled and explained how to hold a newborn. Of course, she showed him to cup his arms in and balance the child's head. It took a minute to do so. The parents smiled brightly as their town's benefactor seemed to have a knack for handling small children. The novice tilted her head a little, noting on how Connor looked so… _paternal_ like this. It somewhat made her want to participate.

"_I wanna hold the baby_!" she jumped in her stance a little in awe; really wanting to hold the petite-sized baby. However, as soon as she fangirled, the tiny child opened its eyes and gradually began to cry. "Oh…" the novice panicked. She was never so good with children. So much for first impression. Prudence lightly took her baby back and bounced the child in her arms for it to calm down. The young woman felt extremely guilty now and Connor was silently freaking out behind his stoic mask. She kept apologizing for the sudden startle, but the mother waved it off, knowing that they were very excited to see the young one.

"Maybe this is a sign…" she mumbled in defeat.

"Sign of what, child?" Warren patted the youths' backs.

"A sign that children really aren't my thing."

"Why must you say that, child?"

"Well, Connor doesn't want to get married, we fight so much, I scared off so many orphans, and now I just scared your new kid—it's a sign." Connor vividly grimaced upon the mention that he didn't want to get married, which made the mother take it the wrong way.

"What does she mean, Connor?" she furrowed her brows, "Even your cousin is married, is she not?"

"It is not like that, Prudence. The life I live is… complicated. I cannot hope to provide as a husband." She was taken aback by this response as her baby continued to whine in her arms.

"Do not say such things. I know you find someone suitable in your partner." He narrowed his eyes, slightly confused and looked at Tsipporah and quickly bowed his head. The action in itself gave off an offensive vibe to her.

"Maybe I should go…" she trailed off, a little crushed that her attempt in being another's auntie has failed by a long-shot, but Prudence urged her not to give up so easily. The novice shook her head. "Nope. Baby cries—that's my cue to exit stage right."

"Oh, child—"

"Congratulations on the new baby boy, Pruddy."

She raised her palm so that they knew not to try to talk her out of calling her back, but she was abruptly pulled back that caused her to fuss as much as the newborn.

"Come now, child. I'm sure little Hunter is willing to see his new aunt."

"But he's still crying…" she bit her lip and looked to the side and thought of something. Willingly, she eventually decided to take the baby in her arms. To the assassin's surprise, she naturally knew how to hold it. She looked very deep in thought before anything came out of her mouth.

_Kuwata tsunowo vralai, _

_tsuriji pfuralekai,_

_kwondzuvai undovartsu wronduwail,_

_Tjortetei jeki liago, Jiunmata ivelischpfuli, _

_neftyoma sorepiyamei,_

_Schijiyako alefni fatalliliya,_

_Nic'hpisfa unhoreselye,_

_Otrajain aforeje kurasolda, _

_Towari hatasei mic'hatasei tsufrallai,_

_Otrajain aforeje kurasolda, _

_Towari hatasei mic'hatasei tsufrallai ilja_

In seconds, Hunter stopped crying and fell asleep—something that even put the novice into shock. Guess she wasn't hopeless with children after all. She kept cooing over how he looked when he slept and didn't fail her little 'nephew'. The mother and father smiled, taking their baby back and complimenting on her 'success'. She turned around, hoping the assassin wasn't looking at her expression. As much as she was happy to hold the little one, Connor didn't seem to believe he was that supportive as a husband. It sort of pissed her off now every time she looked at him now. What about him made him an unsuitable husband? Even Clan Mother argued so. She shrugged her shoulders and politely bid the couple farewell so she could continue her work and headed back to the manor.

"Tsipporah, where are going?" Connor called for her while she was still halfway down the road. She stopped in her tracks, indifferently.

"Why?" she asked, deadpanned.

"I need to speak with you in the basement."

"You got it, boss." She scratched the back of her neck and kept walking. Her attitude was always strange to Connor, but he had always accepted it as her normal behavior as he did for Emily, for she also has her ups and downs. However, now she was acting completely strange. One minute she's immersed in work and very supportive, the next she spew random subjects and wants no one near her. Whenever this happened, he would take the day speak to the Clan Mother, but this was different. He wasn't too sure if she was being distant or not. He swore this young woman was a living conspiracy. However, there were other things to discuss. They had to find a way to get inside the Templars' fort in order to kill Charles Lee. He was still conflicted on whether to waste his father as well. He had said some painful things to him, casting him aside when his people were in trouble, but he is still his father. There was still much to discuss; a truce to still consider. Maybe all was not lost. As the two finally got inside and into the basement, Tsipporah jumped down the stairs.

"So what are we planning boss?"

"Aveline has given us the layout for the Templars' hideout."

"Anything else?"

"No. Nothing. Afterwards, she could not locate where the remainder of them lie. They have different rendezvous points, but even my recruits say that they are very evasive."

"So Haytham and Lee are gone… huh," was all she could muster before plopping herself on the ground. There were domestic things to worry of anyway. Norris and Myriam were getting married tomorrow. There was still much to be done. The novice sighed and sat Indian-style. "I guess that means Pariah-Pops won't be coming up any time soon since all he wants is for this country's independence."

"Yes. I suppose so…" she leaned to see his face, which didn't hold any remorse.

"And I guess that a _good thing_?"

"I do not wish to see that man; not as long as Lee still stands."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Connor?"

"…" he mumbled something under his breath that she could not catch.

"I sort of want to ask you something anyway. Do you really plan on killing your father now? You've been doing these mercy kills for a while and it's really freaking me out."

"The mercy kills are the ones that worry you?" he suddenly raised his voice.

"Yeah…" she looked at him as if it was that obvious, "As long as you've trained, I thought I was gonna deal with a…"

"A what?" he walked over to her, but she was more bored than scared.

"I dunno… an I'm-gonna-get-the-job-done-kind-of-killer, but the dangerous job is way over my head right now, so I'm not sure if I care about that anymore." He knelt to her level, looking into her face.

"Not care? Then what do you care about if not the revolution?"

"I'm not saying that I don't care about the revolution, Connor. It's after the revolution that I'm so fucking concerned about. I mean… I probably won't see you again, but I can't stay. My family is expecting me to come back when I'm finished and… and…" he wanted to take her into his arms, but the novice backed out of it a little, "Are you not killing the rest of them so I can stay, or is it because you want to get back with your father?"

"Tsipporah—"

"Please don't lie to me with all that 'I won't make such a good husband' bullshit either. You just don't want to kill Haytham, right? That's sort of a double whammy—you get your dad back and I can stay."

"It is not like that!"

"Then what is it like? I'll follow you wherever you go and I accept your humility, but you would rather make an already broken thing work?"

"Then what would you have me do, Tsipporah? Have him killed off like the others? Lose our chances of ever making any peace with those who have been our enemy since the beginning of time? And for what—to lose _you _as well?" The novice paused, steaming out her breath through her nostrils as he fumed at her senselessly, in her perspective.

"No one said it was going to be a happy ending. Your people will be free, the colonists will be free, and the 21st century; the future secured—better than it was before… but we'll both be alone."

"And you are satisfied with that conclusion?"

"What else should we expect?"

"A future together."

His eyes soften as he said this. The novice shuddered a bit and turned from his gaze. Maybe she should've stayed outside. Maybe she shouldn't have said all those things to him that night. Maybe she shouldn't have come back to the 18th century after all. It was as if he sensed her anxiety and took her chin in his hold, forcing her to face him. Her chest heaved heavily as he did, wishing that she could just get up and run away from here. She was told if anything had gotten past the point of partnership with the assassin that bad events were sure to follow. She loved him, but not selfish enough to let him get bashed by his own inevitable destiny. His strong thumb rubbed gently on her cheek and she squeaked, trying to pull his hand off, but again she had forgotten how overwhelming his strength was compared to hers. What he said in the long run wanted to make a laugh in mockery.

"_A future together_… with someone who thinks he'd make a shitty husband?"

"I am not deserving of you, but that does not change the way I feel for you."

"'Deserving'?Even if your dad thinks I'm—"

"I care not for what my father thinks of you." He unconsciously came in closer to her and her body froze, fully aware of what he was going to do. She ceased her fussing for a moment and looked at him with a sneer. He obviously isn't much of a realist, but he still imagined them being together. Is he mental? The novice wanted to walk out of the room and take the floor plans of the Templars' hideout with her. It was a menial thought of hers to avoid any romantic encounter, but… instead she leaned in forward and pressed her lips against his, placing her hands on his shoulders until they wrapped around his neck to bring him closer. He obliged by sliding his hands against her sides that caused her to shudder even more.

"I swear… I love you, but you drive me nuts sometimes, boss…" she breathed.

"I told you not to call me that here," he growled between breaths and eventually broke the kiss, "And you are not the one to speak of pestering when you are the intolerable one."

"Connor—_eep_!" she was slipped onto her back and his body hovered over hers until he partly pressed onto her, "When you consider the curse, this is a bad idea, dude. And I gotta do those floor plans you just got." He would never tell her to be quiet with a seething annoyance. He would, instead, give her a dirty look that would give her the idea that he'd bash her head in if she kept talking; not that he would, but it would give her the idea. What made her quiet this time was the fact that with their chests close together, they could feel each other's heart beating against the others. It lightened their breaths knowing now that their hearts were in the synch even when it rushed or slowed down. Connor's mother once spoke of such a rare occurrence—one that was with his father. It allowed her to realize that they were meant for each other. It was too perfect. This was too perfect. How did he not notice before? He slowly entwined his hands in hers on either side of her while she laid in bewilderment as if realizing his discovery. She closed her eyes and relaxed her face as his closed in, sensually. At this point, she'd be kicking and screaming, but her mind and body had less resistance this time. She submitted to his touch entirely, wrapping her legs around his waist to bring him closer—which caused him to moan and grind his hips into her waist. The sudden action brought down her defenses ten-fold as she felt his length of flesh hardening underneath her own clothes. It was starting to drive her wild.

"_Ratonhnhaké ton_…" she whined and threw her head back, feeling her body heat get to her faster than the room temperature. Connor's heart must be beating the same pace for she felt frozen in time—vulnerable to anything. He trailed down her bare neck with his lips, undoing her top in its wake. She moaned louder when he bit at her bosom, pulling away at her skort in the process… _but then he thought for moment_. As much as he wanted to spend the rest of his days with his observer, he didn't want to… not like this. He loosened one of his hands to tap out. The novice broke from her trance and studied the look on his face. Utter guilt began to rise in her as if she had nearly taken advantage of a minor.

"What's wrong?" she sat up, unfurling her legs from him.

"Nothing. Only that… it would not be fair to senselessly do such an activity with you purely out of impulse." This really shouldn't surprise her, but it did. "I told you I would not make such a good husband."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—because you have daddy issues, you are too attached to me, or because you suddenly take into the idea of fucking me on a regular basis?" that last one was blurted; sounded like something Angie would say. She really has to stop hanging with that overbearing woman. Connor furrowed his brows as if he was being accused of murder here. He got to his feet and turned his back on her, looking back at the floor plans. "Okay! I was kidding about the last one, babe. Why can't we just casually—I don't know… because we're boyfriend-girlfriend."

"This is something a married couple does, Tsipporah."

"Oh…" she got up to him, "It's different in the future. So much freedom that you can just do it with no strings attached. Not that we have no strings attached. I mean, we have a history, I like you and you like me, we're always together—"

"How fast can you have these floor plans built out?" _Goddamn it, boss_.

"A couple of days. Architecture is not my cup of tea." A simple 'shut up' would have sufficed.

"Then I'll have Faulkner assist you."

"I'll start in the evening. I have to see Myriam's wedding dress later."

"Acceptable. I need these as soon as possible. I must find and kill Charles Lee."

"You say his name more often than mine. But I guess 'keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer'?" She went behind him and started to rub his shoulders, humming a song that instantly came to mind. "Can I at least get a kiss for the road?" The assassin shrugged off. "Hey! You made me watch childbirth to start the morning off."

Connor smirked and turned to her. With the look on his face, she really thought he was going to kiss her, so she braced herself. He gently cupped the side of her face and leaned in close, his lips starting to brush against hers…

"Get to work, observer," he whispered.

Tsipporah honestly thought something was going to happen anyway, but it didn't. Her eyes were already closed, expecting a kiss. After a few seconds past, she opened her eyes and found the basement empty of any presence. The average woman would probably feel a little let down, but not her. She clapped and giggled at all of it—to the the fact that he boldly left her hanging. Oh, well. He left the floor plans of the fort behind. Suppose she should get to work, so she went up the stairs and closed the basement with the candelabra. It didn't matter where Connor was at this point, though. She needed to head to Ellen's place to oversee the designing of Myriam's wedding dress. That should be done first.

* * *

Connor went to the sitting room, pondering on what to do for his next move. He wrote down his thoughts in his own journal, detailing all that has happened so far and what troubled. So far, they were at a good start. Still, they could not get any farther than this. There had to be a way to break into the fort, scatter the guards, and infiltrate their base without obvious detection. He sat still and pondered—then sighed. This would be better to execute with the floor plans. Even more so, his father and Charles Lee are now missing. If his recruits cannot find them, then they are probably held up deep within the fort or elsewhere entirely. This was becoming very frustrating to. Perhaps some fresh air and hunting will clear his mind a bit. Connor picked up his bow and quiver, throwing it over his shoulder and stood. Just as he did, he heard a thud of a body. It came from the kitchen. With a flinch, he sprinted in that direction to find that the old man was on the ground, struggling. The maid was there as well, trying to help him up.

"Let me help," Connor acted, taking the other shoulder of his mentor and slowly stood up.

"Thank you, Connor," the maid grunted, "I do believe old age is catching up to him fast. Master Achilles, I implore you to go to bed and rest while I make supper. I shall come with some potions from the doctor."

"Alright then…" he groaned, "Connor?"

"Of course." He lent his shoulder once more as they headed to the old man's bedroom that was at the end of the corridor. Once they were inside, he gently put the old man to bed.

"So what is next? There are two men left and you have done well to take out most of them."

"Nothing, so far. I have received the floor plans from their fort and Tsipporah is to build it out. There are no traces of the remaining two—I suspect that they are hiding within the fort or have hid themselves somewhere else."

"I see. Knowing Haytham, he would play it safe, but a decrease in numbers is not the act of diminishing their strength."

"So it would seem," he groaned.

"You must kill them one way or another, Connor. Otherwise, all your endeavors thus far would be for naught. The Eyes as well. Everything you do in order to destroy the Templar hold is recorded for the spirits to see. Once you have completed your mission, she will return to the future." His student looked to the side, troubled as he kept hearing her name come up. He was already having difficulty wrapping his head around other things, but her… she… "I suspect that her leave will be the most troubling, no doubt. You two have grown awfully close. It will serve as a problem; I have told you that and lo and behold, I was right. She will leave as soon as the Order is destroyed, Connor. Whatever ties you have with her must be severed before—"

"Achilles…" he tensed, "What if we were to keep the Grand Master alive, so that we can form a truce once more. He was willing to do it once. We can still consider this in mind."

"So you can what, Connor?" he coughed, "Your father no longer becomes a misplaced sentiment and your woman stays? Did she agree with your terms, at least?" Connor did not answer. His pause was all the old man needed as confirmation. "Enough with the childish games, child. This is a revolution—not a fairytale. As I said before, the end will never be as satisfying as you imagine it to be; not everyone in the end will be happy with the results of this revolution."

"Of course, but everyone will soon get what they've strived for. Despite the end, I will continue to fight."

"I suppose so. It is your duty after all."

"No," he corrected, "It is because… who else will?" even those from his village thought it to be an obligation that he wanted to leave the village on his own free will. That wasn't the case. It was never the case. Had he never left, the village would be destroyed and many people fighting for freedom would not be supported as much. If he did not decide to fight, then who will? This land was still his home. The sentimental musings were disrupted by the maid entering in with the two lumberjacks; faces filled with worry. They looked as if they were running a marathon before getting here.

"Connor! Thank God! You have to come with us." They both were busy catching their breaths.

"A simple knock would have sufficed," Achilles huffed and crossed his arms. The two middle-aged men grinned like idiots before slowly backing out the room. Connor excused himself to speak to them.

"What is it?"

"It's Ellen and her daughter! Her drunken husband came back with some bandits and they're tearin' her place apart!" Godfrey said.

"They're still inside that shop, too! We gotta hurry."

….

The novice went to Ellen and her daughter's shop after the little escapade she had in the basement. Maybe she should go to the carpenter once she was done watching girls enjoying girly activities, like making dresses. Actually, it was something they constantly accuse the novice of doing, but that was simply not the case. It was in her ability to make them; not as a hobby, though. They could argue all they want.

"Well, why don't you have a dress made, too, dear?" Ellen inquired. Her daughter agreed.

"What?"

"You do plan on getting married soon, right? You're still ripe in age to do so."

"I have no idea what you're talking about…"

"With Connor, silly girl!" she elbowed the young woman and she rolled her eyes.

"Marriage is sort of a problem with him as it is with me, Ellen." They were surprised to hear this answer what with how the two always interact with each other out in public and suspected them doing more in private. It was setting an unsettling silence for them. "Don't think too much about it, guys. Problem is—as much as we have had our little adventures together, we will never be together forever. And don't ask why. It just can't be that way."

"Of course it can be that way!" Ellen's daughter took the novice's hands in hers, "You poured his heart out to him and he did the same, has he not?"

"Maybe."

"And you've known each other for years repressing these emotions! Why not marry him, Sipsy?" Ellen could not say much, but knew true love when she saw it; even hoped for it once. She thought she could have one in her husband, but that changed over time because of the war. Troubled times truly show who is really your friend and foe. Her daughter still believed that such a thing existed. The novice believed in such as well—somewhat earlier, her faith was completely restored. The pain of reality still stings, though.

"Connor's really different," she sighed, "I really have no idea what he sees in me, but I do see something in him—always have. He was so green back then, but he was so ready for the world when I was the one that was scared." She sighed again, "And he calls me the brave one… no I'm not. Yet the more he said it… the more I started to believe it."

"Awn…" the mother and daughter commented.

"Shut up."

"He must really love you, Sipsy, dear," Ellen added, "Love has a way of changing you for the better." She gazed at the floor for a moment. Changed because of love? No, not really. These thoughts have always been with her since childhood. If she had never met Connor, then she would have made a turn for the worst for even Juno told her so. The women continued to go back and forth with the stitching on the mannequin, handing the novice the pin-cushion and asking her opinion. To their dismay, she was very blunt. When she didn't like the dress for its form, she'd say so. When there was too much lace, she'd rip it off and say to sew the rest back on. And when there was too much silk and puff, the whole mannequin would be knocked over. It went from a fun idea to have an artist around to a frustrating Project Runway assignment. Before the novice could literally torch the design, she smelled something on the wind. More like someone.

"Sipsy, sweetie? Something wrong?"

"A group of men… bandits. They're in town heading this way."

"What?!" she ran to the window and checked outside. It was true. There were men heading angrily to the shop with axes and crowbars. A panic rose inside her as she recognized the man leading the group.

"It's my husband…"

"Your husband?"

"Connor saved me from him months ago. He's come back."

"You two barricade the windows and the doors. Keep something sharp on you—anything you can use as a weapon. _Now_! You daft scallywags!" They glared at her the moment she insulted them. "Sorry, sailor talk. You know what I mean."

….

The townspeople in the area all gathered as more bandits poured in from all sides of the shop to plunder. They were well armed, skilled to go up against simple townsfolk, but they weren't simple townsfolk. These people mined, hunted, traded, and knew how to handle open conflict for they came fresh out the troubled cities of the colonies before finding a safe haven in Homestead. Swords and knives were brandished to the bandits' surprise, swiftly being beaten to their knees mercilessly until they fell unconscious. It made mowing down the obstacles around the house easier for the assassin. The novice inside had little to do save for protecting to two women from possible break-in's. In a matter of minutes, they were all on the ground and Ellen's drunken, vengeful husband was at the mercy of the young assassin.

"Ellen and Maria are free of you. I say so. The people behind me say so. Believe me when I tell you if I _ever_ see you on this land again, _I will end you_." He roughly released the wretched man and he stumbled, spitting that if his wife and daughter wanted to live here; then he won't even bother. Hearing the commotion die down, the three women from the shop emerged; the novice snickering on the man's pathetic display of strength against Connor's. Ellen's husband looked up to the source of light laughter, finding it to be…

"_You_! You're the white-haired demon!"

"You heard the man, honky—now get the fuck outta here," she hissed. He finally obliged as the young assassin forcefully pushed him to the dirt path ahead. Ellen was speechless. Speechless, but grateful. She confessed that not even words could express this moments. Never in her life did she imagine anyone, much less the entire population, protecting the lives of her and her beloved daughter.

"We protect our own, Ellen," the blacksmith smirked.

"This is my home now," she was tearing up, "I'll find a way to show my gratitude to you all. I promise." The people nodded, dispersing in knowing that Ellen was safe. Connor wanted to make sure, though, but the novice insisted.

"She's fine, boss," she leaned in to whisper, "But between you and me, this wedding dress is going to take ages to finish right."

"I'm sure you are keeping her occupied. However, there is something I require you to do for me. Remember that."

"Do I get any reward for doing shit for you, boss?" Ellen laughed at their conversation. They talk out of respect like co-workers rather than lovers.

"I shall wait for the final critique of the dress inside, then."

"Make sure I like it!" the novice called back comically. The young assassin gave a pat on her shoulder and turned to leave as well. It all made her forget about home for a bit that Ellen considered it so. It can't be the same for her—not at the end. She can't just stay as she pleased and that was the reality of it. The last time she had to leave, Connor was really upset. He probably didn't want to confess it, but she knew he was really upset. It was a surprise that he didn't act as such when she came back. It was as if nothing had changed. She shook her head. "Floor plans! Gotta get those floor plans done after this!"

* * *

Connor wanted to check back on the old man now that his old age was starting to catch up to him. No doubt the doctor and/or the maid would try to keep him as fit as they can, but they cannot go against his fate should something happen to him. Knowing that he might lose his mentor was beginning to bring pain to him as much as when he watched his mother burned in the rubble of their home. He didn't want to admit it, but Achilles felt more of disciplined father figure even before he saw his father's face in person. Even so, his father tried to be as such. It was for naught. He would criticize him, support Charles Lee, and try to coax him into joining the Templars. Perhaps it didn't have to be that way. Maybe they could join forces when their goals are aligned. They could form a truce.

"Connor!" a voice called him and already knew.

"Emily."

"Man, at least call me 'Angie'. Everyone else is. I bet Tsipporah would want you to call her Sipsy once in a while, but just between you and me; her family members call her Tsippy (seh-FEE). That's not what I came to talk about, though."

"Then what is it?" he crossed his arms.

"Fillan says that word on the street is that there are some mercenaries looking to bag Sipsy. Must be the Templars on the move again. And hey, why not. She's stronger than I am, anyway."

"Stronger than you…?" she pulled him aside so that they were behind a tree and out of sight.

"There might not be something Juno wouldn't want me to tell you, but you need to know anyway. There is a reason why Sipsy and I were brought back in time."

"Why is that, then?"

"I think we said something about your mother being an observer to you, but you have to know that she was originally supposed to be your guide. Her death was untimely. That's why Juno dragged us here because you needed the Eyes as the First Civilization said so."

"But the Eyes are everywhere, why her? Why steal a girl from another time and place her here?" There was even an observer hidden in the Mayan ruins that explained that the observers were in many places, ripe for any assassin to use for their missions.

"Because your generation needed Artemis—the hunter, the healer, the mother… Well, you get it. And she was the only Artemis incarnation left, so she had to be sent to you. Juno tried to find a path where your mother's death would be avoided, but it was no use. The only thing she could do was let it be and find the next incarnation and send her to you. Same for Aveline—I am her observer. I can watch her from here, but her mother is dead as well and that's why I'm here. Eyes of Ahprodite. Get it?" He understood this, yet…

"Why are you telling me all this now? In fact, why didn't Tsipporah tell me of these things before?"

"She'd put you in danger if it came from her mouth. You're already in danger by falling in love with her and she is, too. The tension was there and everything else after was bound to happen. The First Civilization can't anything about it, but the fact that you are cursed still stands. Once you get the amulet they want, you'll have to go back to your village to look for the Crystal Ball. Juno will tell you what else to do with the amulet and she'll lift the curse, but this can only be done when you have killed all the Templars—that's something she'll never let you know."

"And so…" he grimaced, "The curse will be lifted when I've completed my mission and you both will leave." It was not the outcome he was expecting. He thought there would different paths towards the end.

"I'm sorry, boss. That's how it's going to be at the end." Usually, when she would lay some disappointing news to a friend, she'd pat their back and tell them to look on the bright side, but that could not be. Connor didn't like just anyone touching him save for close allies or his woman. And she can't that everything will be better when he clearly wanted the novice to stay. His stern front would never have anyone know of it. He only gave Angie a solemn look and adjusted his gloves.

"Thank you for telling me this, Emily."

"You know, Sipsy wouldn't tell you this so much because she's terrible at romantics, but thanks to you; she's back to her old self again."

"Old self?"

"She used to believe in true love, grand adventures, and protecting people. It's… it's really my fault that all that went to shit. I really fucked it up for her. After she saved my life, she was accused of being crazy because she was the one that fell instead of me off the roller-coaster. She got all Gothic, started hating pink and fairytales, got into a lot of fights—all because people remembered her as the girl who tried to kill herself when it was me… Thanks for bringing that person she was before back because God knows I couldn't."

"Emily, this is something she's done herself. It was not me who changed her. She had always had faith that her beliefs would not be wasted. She has proven such things as she stayed here. At least… at least I would know that if she does leave this place to return to whence she came, she will return a better person."

"Wait…" she flinched, "Are you saying you have no problem with her going anywhere?"

"It is a selfish notion to think that she would. She is no object. She deserves more than that."

"Is this why you say all that bullshit about not being a good husband? And what about you, boss?" He motioned himself to back away to the dirt path.

"I will continue to liberate this country of tyranny. Whether it is with my recruits or me alone, this country will be free." Angie did not say more. She only gave a small smile as she leaned against the tree they spoke by. She did blame herself for her friend's fall in character from someone hopeful and full of dreams to someone spiteful and apathetic. When she came back from the museum trip, her eyes were lit up. She went on and on about how she met this native boy, who got on her nerves, but later became friends with—him, his chubby friend, and his crazy cousin. All she would talk about was this place and how he got on her nerves at first. The blonde knew better. She knew her friend was falling into a place that those of the First Civilization would not want her to be. And if they called her that far back in time, it would be because an incarnation was wiped out untimely. This wasn't the first time it's happened either. Maybe it would be better for her friend to stay here. She's never been happier like this before.

* * *

Later that evening, everyone returned to their homes, save for the ones still prepping for Norris' and Myriam's wedding. The novice didn't bother Ellen about the dress for the rest of the day since it was looking acceptable to wear at last. It was secondly that she ran out of matches to burn. The floor plans to the Templars' fort were finally completed in 3-D build along with another discovery thanks to the Homestead carpenter. It seemed like everything was starting to go well that day and the two observers sat in the basement looking over the design before the boss came back from his hunt.

"So there's an underground base, huh?" the blonde nodded.

"Yeah," the novice flipped the board over as it was made to do so, "And according to recruits' research, these areas," she pointed, "Are all marked for hostilities. These areas are where they keep their artillery and cannons. And this is where the targets linger; must be their quarters."

"Man, I don't know how the boss is going to go about this. That would be a lot of men pouring by half a-thousand. It'll be a mess getting through the front door."

"He'll figure out something. He always does, babe."

….

"Okay… so you don't have an idea…?"

Connor looked over practically a thousand times at the map she's rebuilt as a 3-D master-piece. Every passageway was carefully built for something that was built for only a day. However, with all the posting and positions of cannon and henchmen that would be in their way, it will be very difficult to approach the fort with full frontal force. They would have to attack from a distance. This had to be done carefully.

"We will not know for sure which of the men will be deep inside the fort, but knowing their lives to be in danger, it will be Charles Lee."

"Alright, Connor," she backed away from the model with a paper in hand, "Oh yeah, the French Queen is wondering when you would like to visit France—namely Versailles."

"You know we have no time for such levity."

"You mean luxury. I've seen pictures of this place. Big gardens, plentiful food… prissy-ass rich folks. And it'll be an invitation from Antoinette. We should go, Connor."

**"Do you not understand that we've not the time?"** she quieted instantly, crossing her arms. He didn't have to get pissed about it. He pinched the bridge of his nose, not meaning anything by his sudden outburst. She must have sensed it because she didn't add anything to her statement to keep it going strong. It was just as Angie had stated—with him, she is more lax and more feminine. Her masculine side completely slips. At first, it would be killing and adventure, now it was something very simple.

"I thought it would be a good idea… since I won't be able to see it with you anyway." Of course. Once the waters were clear of enemies, they could travel more freely. He knew this, but… "Fuck it, I'll just set dinner. I'll bring your plate down if you're going to stay down here for a bit, Connor. I won't get in your way of planning something bat-shit crazy, trying to infiltrate this fort."

"Tsipporah…" she stopped just as she was going up the stairs and he gestured for her to come back to him. She obliged after rolling her eyes. "I am aware that no matter what happens, you will return home. Nothing I do will change that."

"But people will know freedom and the Crown will no longer have influence on this country any longer—as is the destiny of the world. At least I know who really saved America and it wasn't a daft white guy making speeches, and was voted to lead this country by privileged men." It was said so sarcastically, but the young assassin didn't take it as such. It was the truth, after all. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking about it."

"No. You are not wrong of this. My father spoke true, but he is still a Templar. The same goes for Lee for he is still my enemy."

"So you won't go after Washington even after learning the truth?"

"I have a mission as do you. It is not fair to keep you from your home any longer. And revenge is not the surest way, is it?" She said something like that before now, but even so, his mother spoke of this as well. Liberation was much more important than his own personal goals. The novice should be happy that he's putting his personal goals aside for the Brotherhood's sake. She should be happy. _But she wasn't_. This would have pleased her and Achilles a long time ago, but now was different. "There is another concern, however. It would appear that Order has decided that you should be captured. It would be better for you to remain here until I breach their safe haven—"

"_I belay that_!" she threw her arms around him from the side; not caring if he would push her away or not, burying her face into his chest, "I'm going with you whether you like it or not. You can order me around all you like, but I'll decide if I want to stay behind. Order or Brotherhood—I'm with you because I love you." It was a bit of a challenge to move since she nailed herself to the spot along with him. Still, he could not tell if she justly wanted to stay. One day to another would be a different story. Wrapping an arm around her, he straightened her up so that she looked up to his face. Connor wondered why it had not occurred to him the first time she'd come here that she was so short, only right under his chin. The novice tried not smile at the fact that she now has to break her neck trying to look up to him.

"Cursed by the spirits or not, if you follow me any further—you will die."

"You should have told me that years ago," she went on her toes to reach his lips, but he tensed, "What?"

"You approve of leaving like this when all is done?" he whispered. Her eyes darted around for a moment.

"No… not really, but I'm happy that I met the people I know now. And to know that there is something—someone I love more than art alone…" she noticed his face wrinkling and deadpanned, "Unless you're not feeling that way right now…"

"You are the most insufferable woman I have ever met."

"I think I'll go in the kitchen and fatten myself again…" but he didn't let go of her since he wasn't finished, pouting as she tried to pull away. "_Connor_."

"I have never felt more compelled to curse at one until I met you." The novice bit the inside of her cheek, recalling on how he dropped the f-bomb on her when she insulted his fighting style. "But I suppose it will be something I will grow to miss. However… nothing between us was mended when the only compliments I receive from you are details of me, physically, rather than efforts and when you left the first time."

"What? You don't like it when I call you 'sexy'?" he gave her a look that shut her mouth again, but then she caught onto what he said, "Wha— you missed me when I left the first time, you sensitive motherfu—_ah_, Connor…" his free hand took her by the chin, rubbing his thumb along her bottom lip tantalizingly, feeling his own warm breath entwine with hers. He felt her hold on him tighten in wait as leaned in closer. She'd laugh at his timid approach, but met with his lips first instead. Instinctively, he returns the sensual touch, pulling her closer to his body until he needed to come for air. His receiver's breath was unsteady as he broke the kiss.

"Tsippy... Of course I have missed you. I still would if you leave now."

The novice's head quickly cleared up as he spoke. Her hold on him lost its craving and want. The more they stay like this, the harder it will be to say goodbye. He still had his arms around her, though, running his fingers through her snowy hair. He knew there would be a day where she disappears once all is finished. Not enough hours in the day, where there?

* * *

****

Sorry I died, everyone. Broken laptop and a writer's block is a terrible combination, but now I'm back. Ok... much more war and action the next chapter-I promise! I know some people were getting antsy when they started messaging me on deviantART. Haha. Don't worry, my writer's block is gone and I am to work on the next few chapters soon. The conclusion is near! ;D

**Love you guys! See you next chapter!**


	28. Chapter 28: Intention

"In his company, I am grieved to the soul by a thousand tender recollections."

**Jane Austen**

* * *

The Grand Master of the Templar Order grew impatient. If it was his comrades, many more things would be accomplished, but all that was in the past now. The only thing they could hope to do is look to the future; though few in number, their principle and beliefs still stand strong. The only thing that stood in their way now was the Brotherhood. Their action was impervious—flies in the ointment as they were. If they couldn't simply cripple the Assassins, so to speak, then they should blind them. The curse only made the situation more complicated. If she were to inflict any damage, then he would receive it as well. He couldn't help but think that his son was just as rash as he was when he was young. If Ziio did not choose to seal her abilities—obliterating her inner goddess—then he would be dragged to his own grave as well. Even then, she protected him. This was different. In this reality, his son would have to kill him. Knowing him, he would try to murder Lee and try to reconcile. Haytham whispered an apology to himself, knowing that the greater good must come first.

"Well, Mr. Philips, it appears you have disappointed us beyond forgiveness." Lee loomed over the man that was sent to do their dirty work and utterly failed. Ever since he returned to the fort, he has done nothing useful to them. He must be dealt with. Lee cocked his pistol impatiently. "We've no time for your folly. Not anymore it seems. We have too much at stake as this revolution ensues. And you've come back to us empty-handed."

"P-Please, Mr. Lee!" Ellen's husband stammered as the raven-haired Templar indifferently raised his pistol to the man's forehead. His eyes were sharp and ears deaf to his henchmen's pleas. The only distinct sound to him now was the click and snapping of the loaded gun… until something interesting came across the man's lips. "_That white-haired demon_! Y-Yeah! She was with them—me wife and daughter. S-So was the Assassin! She had the map to this place—the fort! I swear, I'm telling you the truth. That's all I—"**_BANG._**

"Mr. Kenway, I believe we have ourselves a hullabaloo on our way. When shall we have the girl?"

As long as the Brotherhood didn't have Artemis, they couldn't get any further in destroying the Order. They could kill off as many members as they pleased, but it was the Observers that could diminish their principle and make it nothing more than a memory. The Assassins could do this. The Templars had to get their hands on the Eyes. The time to capture was now.

"Hm…" he stepped over Phillip's corpse, "We'll have to begin the following year. Otherwise they will think us most suspicious to be out in the open. Send your men and wait for them to create a distraction. In the chaos, you will have to slip through their property and get the Eyes. The Assassin will be too busy dealing with a handful of mercenaries to try anything. And… Oh, yes," he walked over to a recently delivered crate and broke it open, "She will most likely try being creative. Put her in this and she won't be able to escape." He presented a large bird-cage made of steel. Lee scratched his chin, puzzled by this choice of incarceration and imprisonment. He could not question his leader, however. His strategies were usually radical, but came through at the very end. He nodded, accepting his methods as always.

"Now go get some rest, Charles. We have a big day to plan."

* * *

When Myriam and Norris' big day came, many of the townsfolk attended. The huntress may have had no interest in fashion or décor suited for the modern woman, but was impressed to see what meant for such a small-town ceremony; the groom as well, but was glad that the whole town pitched in just for their sake to make their wedding day special. The day did not start out as planned, though:

"You must be so excited about today," Angie said as she tied back the bride's sash around her waist, "You are gonna be star of the ball today."

"You mean me and my fiancé today," she corrected.

"Yeah, but everyone looks at the bride. Planning weddings and engagement parties—rehearsal dinners… it's all girl stuff, babe. Just ask Sipsy over there. Hey, Sipsy! Isn't wedding planning and party-planning a girl thing?" The novice was fixing a wearable wreath of flowers for the bride to wear. She hummed in thought as her blonde companion called to her in question.

"Hell yeah, it is. I do it for friends and I know how to plan, but it's not a hobby for me." Angie giggled something to Myriam about how her friend used to be the type for romantics, but not anymore. That was the case until she met Connor. The bride gave a sly smirk.

"Say, Sipsy," she teased, "If romance is not in your interests, then how do you and Connor get along? Do you both not think of marriage?"

"Well…" she weaved in the last few branches and walked over, "It's a lot to commit, Myriam. That kind of relationship has a long list of terms and agreements; not just the 'love each other' and 'til death do us part'. You gotta have and raise a family. Cook and clean, provide for your husband. And hey, since there's no electricity and we're women of the 18th century, there is a lot of time to kill when you're not cleaning poop, washing dishes, setting up the fireplace, and cleaning the house. Goodbye levity you once had when you were single." The blonde threw a thick-paged book at the novice's head for her to stop discouraging the bride with her pessimism.

"Ow! Fucking whore!"

"Yeah, you bet. Just because Connor hasn't proposed to you doesn't mean you have to take out your frustration on the woman getting married today."

"You shut up! I bet Fillan hasn't even proposed to you yet."

"For your 4-1-1, he has."

Suddenly, the novice had the urge to wring the girl's neck until her head popped clean off her shoulders. And she could do it—she was trained to. Myriam moved in between them before any damage could be down, begging them both to calm down, but not without congratulating Angie on her engagement. The novice waved her hands in the air in anger, giving up. She couldn't succumb to the frustration for too long, so she placed the headdress of flowers on the bride's head. The blonde quickly grabbed the hand-mirror.

"Aww… don't you look like the perfect bride for Mr. Norris."

"Oh my God!" the novice recalled, "Achilles wanted to come to the wedding, too! I gotta get him out of bed—wait, no. Gotta get him from the forest path. I'll be right back—Actually, Angie; come and help me. He'd kick my ass if it was just me alone."

"_Oh, yeah_… Right behind you, girl. We'll be right back, Mrs. Norris!" the blonde blew a kiss. Myriam suddenly paled at the mention of it…

Suppose Myriam didn't like the mention of being someone who would never have time to herself. Being married sounded like a huge commitment indeed. She loved Norris with all her heart—she did—but marriage would mean that she would never enjoy the open air the same way again. She'll be like every other colonial woman being enslaved to their own domestic chores and kissing the feet of men when they arrive into her house. Such things have happened to her friend, Alice. Once she was married, they could never see each other as much. When she finally visited the village she came from, she saw all that she was: happy with children, busy cleaning pots, and cleaning animal skins. It was sort of a scary sight. It was like taking a wild animal and turning it into a pet. Alice did not mind that she was back in her village, but to be practically trapped in household duties and never dream of the world ever again… She looked at herself in the mirror again and smashed the glass in it against the vanity table. The novice was right. No more freedom if she were to marry… was to be housewife.

Myriam dashed out of the novice's room and jumped onto the balcony to her climbing spot. No doubt, her disappearance will bring up a ruckus, but she didn't care. She stood at her look-out. This place may be a memory once she becomes a wife. Every bit of her freedom as a huntress will slowly disintegrate the moment she says "I do". She paced furiously at the thought, thinking of how her parents disapproved of her running from the city to be out in the country. What does it matter? Maybe she shouldn't have a wedding today… As she was dazed, lost in thought, she heard the lookout's ladder tremble as if someone was climbing it. She peeked over the edge to see who it was. _Connor_.

She cursed at herself for being careless. Of course he'd be the first to find her and at the most obvious place, too. She jumped onto the nearest branch and kept going forward until they were by the brook. The young assassin tried to reason with her to stop running, but her mind was still conflicted.

"I am not a housewife!" she huffed as she jumped into the grass.

"No one says you are!"

She finally stopped as her feet touched the water, turning to her best friend.

"Well, then, Connor… what is it that a woman does once she is married? She commits to her husband, gives birth to many children, and for what? To lose her freedom?"

"Nothing is lost, Myriam. There is more to be gained from this." She cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms. How could he understand?

"And how do you know? I am not being pressured into this, so why must I do this, Connor? There is so much we can do without all this!"

"Then tell me, Myriam. If not today you will marry, then when? You have the time to do so and I do not. You are privileged and lucky to have an opportunity to settle with someone you truly care about. To dispose of such a glorious time that rarely comes in a person's life would be throwing away one's self. As your friend, I cannot let you make any rash decisions that you will soon regret." She stiffened at his words, biting her lip in thought… and before she knew it, she was walking down the aisle on his arm to her fiancé's way. As soon as the Preacher asked the questions that would set them both for their lives together, he gave them permission to kiss—sealing their marriage. Norris and Myriam were officially husband and wife.

….

Connor was surprised to see that his mentor attended the wedding as well as the reception. Even as his body was starting to get weaker, he came as everyone else did. The observers weren't sure to be glad or afraid. The couple that owned the inn rose up a huge buffet with the help of the farming couple, but the observers had the job of cake decorating. The community guessed that they really loved designing anything—the church, the bride's dress, and the reception. Angie even took advantage of the fact that there was alcohol at this wedding and made fruit mixes of the drinks available. Ellen's daughter couldn't be a part of it since she was still underage. Toasts were boasted around the room for the newly-weds as were the stories of many weddings the other couples had back home before making a settlement in homestead; only, the old man kept to himself on that subject.

"Aye! I believe it's time for the newlyweds to dance their first dance!" Faulkner promoted and pointed at the novices who sighed heavily with embarrassment. Why did they wait until they had some drinks and food to sing? They slammed their hands on the table and got up, dragging the new couple to the middle of the open floor.

"If I mispronounce something, then forgive me. Scottish, Irish, and Gaelic languages aren't really one of the many quirks we have." The novice just wanted to point out as Faulkner brought out a fiddle.

_Look how the light of the town, the lights of the town are shining now_  
_Tonight I'll be dancing around, I'm off on the road to Galway now_  
_Look how she's off on the town, she's off on a search for sailors though_  
_There's fine fellas here to be found; she's never been one to stay at home_

_Home you'll go and it's there you'll stay and you've work to do in the morning_  
_Give up your dream of going away, forget your sailors in Galway_

_Téir abhaile riú, téir abhaile riú_  
_Téir abhaile riú Mhearai_  
_Téir abhail gus fan sa bhaile_  
_Mar tá do mhargadh déanta_

Soon, everyone came poured themselves in the open space of the inn to dance with each other as the two girls brought out silver spoons in pairs to slap on their knees. Well, not everyone. It was nice to everyone so happy and together in festivity. Myriam was happy as well—more pleased that she did not pass up this day. What was she thinking? Norris looked was not concern of the ceremony nor the reception in planning, but knowing that Myriam chose to be beside him for the rest of their lives was worth more.

_Come now and follow me down, down to the lights of Galway where_  
_There's fine sailors walking the town and waiting to meet the ladies there_  
_Watch now he'll soon be along, he's finer than any sailor so_  
_Come on now pick up your spoons_  
_He's waiting to hear you play them _WHOOO!

_Here today and she's gone tomorrow and next she's going to Galway_  
_Jiggin' around and off to town and won't be back until morning_

_Téir abhaile riú, téir abhaile riú_  
_Téir abhaile riú Mhearai_  
_Téir abhail gus fan sa bhaile_  
_Mar tá do mhargadh déanta_  
_Téir abhaile riú, téir abhaile riú_  
_Téir abhaile riú Mhearai_  
_Téir abhail gus fan sa bhaile_  
_Mar tá do mhargadh déanta_  
_Do Mhargadh de - do mhargadh déanta!_

"Did anyone see that because I will not be singing that again," Angie breathed, "Toast to the new couple!"

**"A toast!"** everyone raised an ale. The novices sat back down, but Faulkner kept playing his fiddle. Tsipporah swore the 3rd class party of the Titanic somehow smuggled itself into the wedding reception. She didn't know where she was sitting, but curled her toes in and out from under the table from stomping and dancing on wood. Keeping all that enthusiasm as a dancer was hard. She didn't know how Angie does it.

"Enjoying yourself?" she heard a voice near her say, though she knew who it was. She cocked a smile to herself.

"Are you, boss?" the old man grunted at her response. "Hi, Achilles."

"A woman born and raised in Tortuga indeed. Not a care in the world even when a war is going on." The novice's smile tightened. It was either that or she could frown; she wasn't sure. She rose from the table to get a plate of food. All that singing and dancing made her very hungry… maybe another drink would do, too. As soon as s turkey leg caught her eye, she took it and held it in her mouth despite its size, returning to the table. Both men stared and the blonde that sat presently laughed.

"Whaff?" she mumbled through a mouthful of turkey leg and removed it, "Entertaining people is tiring as hell. You gonna get a plate boss?"

"No," he stood, "In fact, I will not stay for long. I must prepare our plans for our next move."

"That's nice and all…" she said, deadpanned, "but you're just gonna leave the party as is, boss? I mean, you didn't even dance. I know Achilles can't, but you don't." After she said so, she felt a jab to her bad leg with a vengeance. The old man was not amused by her comment. She curled in pain for a few seconds. "Okay… I didn't mean it, but you know what I mean. Ahh… Achilles, why are so cruel? And Connor, I thought you promised to protect me."

"Yes, but he cannot protect you from just anyone," he smirked and chuckled.

"He forgot that we're cursed, too, it seems." Connor grunted, feeling the sting of pain the novice felt, but endured it better than she did.

"Oh, grow up, child. You've had other fatal injuries worth crying over." They both gave him a disgruntled look in unison. For once, they were both ready to fight the old man—

"Excuse me everyone," everyone turned as she spoke, "Thank you, I won't keep you long. I would like to present something to Connor and you all. I once said I'd find a way to show my gratitude for your courageous actions in my defense and this is what I give to you today." She unfolded a flag that she sewed herself of green, white, and blue with yellow stars in a circle. "This flag is a symbol of our strength and unity, and I hope you'd all be proud to fly it high above your homes and shops. I'll happily make one for each and every one of you if you so desire, but this one is for you, Connor." She handed the flag to him and he happily accepted, holding it high for all to see and everyone cheered, raising their drinks. Angie had to admit that this was better than the Christmas party she planned.

…

Later that night, all the guests scattered, but not without wishing luck and blessings to the newlyweds; the novice yelled the bride to take off the dress before Norris decided to. Those who were aware of her care over things she'd create laughed heartily. Once the crowds cleared, she threw her head back until she heard it snap out of tension, rubbing the feeling back in. As her head was back, she noticed the thousands of stars that were out. Guess this is where people would get their metaphor of the night sky as 'a blanket of diamonds'.

"Why did you tell those things to Myriam?" Connor stood before her.

"Well, the couple had a good time anyway. No use in—"

"She almost gave up on marriage because of something _you_ said, she told me. Why would you discourage her?" he crossed his arms.

"Well, what do you think, man?" she turned her back and headed to the manor, rushing past the front door, but was pulled back before she reached the stairs.

"Answer me, Tsipporah." He growled softly. The maid gasped and ran back into the kitchen, pretending she saw nothing. Whatever they were fighting about it should be just their business.

"Well, nothing's stopping her from getting married. She's here because she chose to be here and she can chose whether to stay and be with the person she loves as long as she wants with no holes left behind. Nothing's stopping her… I'm here because it's my mission and so are you."

"It is still not right to divide someone else's blissful union," his voice still held discipline and lack of pity; "You must apologize to her."

"I didn't think she'd take it seriously. It doesn't matter if I offended her or not now. She's happy… and the wedding planning took some doing. If you think I was going to let her run off and let there not be a wedding—haha, no." He still looked pretty unmoved. "I'll talk to her in the morning, boss." She shrugged her shoulders and turned to the stairs with her head down. Turning to her bedroom door, she nearly muttered a 'good night' before walking inside. She'd rather bury her head in her sketchbook until she was tired beyond belief. So much food, drinks, and wedding cake was still digesting inside that her energy levels were on high. Damn it and this tight, breezy cotton dress.

"And where are you going?" he asked, sounding a bit annoyed as he leaned on the wall behind him and stared at her intently. It was starting to make her nervous, really.

"To bed. I'm just gonna lay down and draw until I'm tired—"

"Your bed's over there." He gestured his head to the opposite door across from hers. She looked behind her and felt her heart hit her ribcage twice. Mechanically, she looked at the young assassin. He persisted in his gaze.

"Uh…" she coughed anxiously, "I don't think I'm sober enough to share a room with you, Connor." He came up the stairs and took her hand. "Oh."

"Just what exactly did you think I had planned?"

"Nothing. I can't think too straight."

Connor smiled, slowly leading the novice into his room without an ounce of embarrassment. They had done this other times, but he was either tired or vulnerable and never admitted it. Now he was very awake to appreciate her company like he should. His mentor would think it strange as to why he found her appealing as anything close to a mate. The old man wasn't there in Boston. He wasn't there when they were aboard the Aquila. Nor was he there when they first met. His heart closed up after the days of mourning for his mother and those who died when he was young. Outsiders wouldn't be so welcome when he was around, deciding that they were all enemies. They never understood the natives and saw them as animals… until she came along. She didn't understand the customs, she wasn't so feminine, but she would respect his tribe; seeing that she was strange one and they were the normal ones. Even when she made snarky jokes, she would apologize when she knew she went too far. And when she protected him in Boston… a mere outsider he only knew for a few months at the time protecting a native? He saw her in a new light; in a new, curious way.

….

_ "I know you're still pretty pissed at me for saying the things I said, but…" the Goth gulped as the young native had his attention to the sea and his eyes were steely, "I'm pretty sure I hurt your feelings somehow. I can't really explain because Juno told me not to. What do you want me to say, tree-hugger? That I should tell you the whole truth about me being here? I can't."_

_"I wish you did," he finally said something after days of them spending the journey in silence. She fussed about how she wanted to go home and leave this entire adventure behind. She didn't know what she had done. She didn't say anything about his mother this time, so what did she do? He still wouldn't look at her. For some reason, it was breaking her heart. "I suppose your altruistic moments are rare compared in the line of your bi-polar act. You are dishonest with yourself as you are with me."_

_"I can't tell you everything, Connor. Will you stop this stupid, kiddy-grade whining?"_

_"_Whining_?!" he stood and faced her; and she flinched at his reaction. He didn't really care how she looked right now or how frightened she genuinely seemed. "You and the old man have done nothing but criticize my efforts thus far, and when matters turn for the worst, you would run and hide for the most part. Everything I have done means absolutely nothing to you!"_

_Tsipporah's face blanked out. She raised a brow wondering if she heard him right. Her change in face made him realize his slip up. He could always keep cool around others, but with her… he wasn't sure if she was bringing out the best or the worst in him._

_"…you both—you and the old man. Both of you never fail to discourage me."_

_"…" the Goth was still trying to form the words, but couldn't._

_"Yet you saved me. Why?" He tried to search her eyes for an answer, but it did him no good. It made his chest heavy to see her still so secretive. He was unsure of why it bothered him so much that she was so reclusive. Even what she said nights ago hurt him unexpectedly. "I trust that you tell no one when I tell you this: for a moment, I believed I have finally found a friend in an outsider such as you. But you only make allies and pawns, believing this to be a game. I am only the embodiment of possible adventures for you—"_

_"_That is not true_!" she cut in, "You are the only person I've ever had to the patience to teach writing to and a bit of sword fighting. For once—when we were in Boston—I felt like I really protected someone for the better. I know I can't say why, but that's how I feel. Connor, you are my best friend." _

_His eyes sharpened up to her last remark, but the novice paled in comparison as a schoolgirl in love would after an exclaiming of a confession. She quickly covered her mouth, secretly wishing that she could throw across the room, scream into a pillow—something. She'd never let down her electric fence for anyone, so what the hell just happened? Connor was no different for he was trying to play out internally of why this strange girl was starting to mean something to him. Out of all the people he's grown up and grown close to, he's never had the desire to try to figure them out. He never had to or kept to himself. So why did this girl's complexity inconvenience him? …Now that he thought about it, he's never her seen her act so feminine before. It was sunset whereas the stars were starting to show and he looked to the side where the sun was meeting the horizon. The Goth calmed herself and followed his eyes, and frowned._

_"You like sunsets?" she crossed her arms and leaned on the railing as he steered. He lightly shook his head and went back to facing front as the sunlight was getting into his eyes. "Oh, 'cause I really would shoot the next guy that says that it's the most romantic scenery ever. I hate sunsets. The only thing they're good for is good lighting effect."_

_"That is if you want to go blind with your significant other."_

_"Ha ha…" she would say the same, but laughed instead. And was disapproving it, too, for some reason as Connor looked at her with a curious face. She stared back. "What?"_

_"Then… what do you like?"_

_"Art," she thought harder, "Dreaming. Animals… Man o' Wars. You?"_

_"I don't anything in particular besides home accept, perhaps, the Aquila. What I would really want is to have a friend in you, but you are difficult to read." The young teen felt her cheeks rise with heat. There was nothing to hide, however, for her skin was too dark for such a thing. "I cannot commend you as such if you continue to hide from me in fear. Whatever you are trying to be, I know it is not you." _

_Tsipporah wanted to move from the spot. It was impossible to. All of his words nailed her to the spot. As if he sensed her anxiety, he waved his hand to come closer. Her body obliged, but her mind silently cursed as she came near the wheel. Gently, Connor took her hands and brought her around, placing her behind the wheel. She thought she was going to have a heart attack. This boy never allowed her to touch him since they met, ever. Whenever she did though, it was to poke at his chest and mess with his hair for fun. His hands clasped over hers when she held the wheel's handles whilst being close behind her so he could tell her how to steer. For roughhousing killer and hunter, his hands were awfully soft, she commented aloud and he said the same for her; only the teen defended with the fact that using a lot of water and paint leaves that affect. She'd find all this exhilarating if his silky hair wasn't blowing in her face when the wind would kick in once in a while, grunting at how his hair was trying to assassinate her eyes._

_"Something wrong?"he backed away, releasing her hands. Aside from the fact that he was starting to arouse her…_

_"Your bangs were in my face, tree-hugger."_

_"Oh," he sheepishly felt at his strands hanging at his face, "But I cannot cut it." The Goth mouthed an 'o' in comprehension. It wasn't in his place to do so, or the time. She didn't want him getting in trouble for something as meager as cutting his hair. She shrugged her shoulders and pulled out her hair-tie. She handed him her hair-tie and he only kept his gaze on her poof of hair._

_ "Pull it back with this, then," she went behind him, pulling his hair back into a ponytail, and came back around, "There. At least now your vision will be bet—sweet mother Mary on a donkey." The Goth did not anticipate that he would look more decent with his bang out of the way. Her heart skipped a beat in a way that she thought she would die in an instant. Maybe she should take her hair-tie back… "Yeah, I have no idea why you have no girlfriend yet. That is most amazing widow's peak I've ever seen."_

_"'Widow's peak'?" he timidly asked as he rubbed his forehead. She brought his hand down._

_"Yeah, you look way hotter this way," he vividly blushed at her compliment, bowing his head, "Hey, don't be embarrassed, boss. At least I can see your eyes better."_

_"I am not embarrassed!" he retorted._

_"Sure you're not, boss."_

_"Why are you calling me that now?" he reached for the wheel, dragging the observer near him so she'd steer, too. He had to admit that he was taking a liking to the closeness._

_ "Because you are when you think about it. You have to captain a ship, you're training to become an Assassin, and soon you'll have to give me orders. Technically speaking, you're my boss." She turned her back to the wheel, gripping the handles for dear life as his hands overlapped hers. This wheel had more than one handle, so why take the occupied ones? It was already hard to muster words when his body leaned against hers, but often he would look over to see the horizon, telling her that she should practice steering, too. "Connor…" she trembled, feeling his heat as his head was modestly leaning into her hair. "Your hands are as big as mine, dude. I hope that changes with puberty." His hands gripped on hers tightly. "Calm down, the guys at home say I have man hands anyway."_

_"That is not true," he leaned in to see her face, "You may be unorthodox, vulgar in language, but you are still a girl."_

_"Would you… prefer that I stop cursing, wear a dress, and stop touching you?"_

_"If you were like every other girl, I'm not sure if I would speak to you the same way. I prefer you the way you are now." _

_The Goth choked, suddenly disliking the closeness. Maybe it didn't bother the native so much because he was teaching her how to steer, they've gotten used to each other's company, and he doesn't have an obscene-minded friend back home like she did. If Angie didn't spam her e-mail in middle school with so much porn, she may think out this scenario differently. "Connor?"_

_"Hm?"_

_"I prefer you the way you are now, too." She bit her lip as she felt him smile as his head was beside hers. It made her hold back a cackle realizing that he was only half an inch taller than she was. On second thought, this wasn't so bad. The both of them watching the stars appear on the horizon gave them both a sense of peace in both of their upside down worlds. The evening sky's gradient brought about a rare quietness. Though, before they met each other, they would enjoy it by themselves. But now they could enjoy it for themselves. _

* * *

The start of 1781, the Loyalists was pushed back more and more by the Patriots. Their control on the colonies was beginning to weaken greatly by the day. Letters were sent to the French Queen of their success with messages on the wind of the Brotherhood and their troubles. The Templars were still as big a threat as they were when there were more members before. Connor still believed that once Lee was removed permanently from the Order, there would be possible reconciliation as well as peace, but some close followers were a bit indisposed with this move; namely the observers and his cousin. They were stubborn in their decision-making. Their fates may be entwined with those of Brotherhood, but their will can be quite difficult to overturn. The girls sat in the basement, passing the time—Angie with some pamphlets and Tsipporah in her sketchbook.

"Tsipporah…" Connor was catching his breath as he was sparring with the sparring-dummy.

"Fine. I'll spar with you." She jumped onto her feet and circled around the room until she was in front of her significant other. Her blonde friend sat up, seeing that her friend was finally going to fight her boyfriend. Then it somewhat dawned on her that they were cursed… really? They were going to do this anyway?

The two nodded to each other respectably. Neither had their weapons on them nor was they going to try any dirty tricks. The novice charged headfirst, meaning to knock him down, but it was no use. He easily caught her into a headlock, standing his ground, and pushing her back. She brushed her hair from her face and put her arms up in front of her as she would when she boxed. It was very ill-advised to fight someone who was already a well-trained hunter on top of being trained to be a deadly assassin from a very young age. As soon as he spotted an opening, he went for it, quickly sweeping her ankles so that her balance would break. Once she was disoriented, his open palm came next—then she jumped, rolling over his back and back on her feet. However, her landing was still open. She knew because when she turned around, there was a hidden blade ready to greet her. Or at least, he was in the position to be using it. She lost this round.

"One day, man. _One day_."

"I look forward to it," he said with an indifferent smile.

"What's wrong, boss?" the blonde came over and Connor looked away, "You're not still upset about what I told you, are you?"

"_Told him what, exactly_?" the novice punched her friend's arm.

"It is nothing. Only that Benedict Arnold has betrayed the Patriots. Washington spared Charles Lee's life again. There was a chance for him to be captured and he let him go free." The girls exchanged a rueful look. "It doesn't matter now. We have a plan. Will you be ready when it is set in motion?" Both of the young women complied as if they were soldiers. Of course, no one on the battlefield knew who they were, but they were loyal as such. If only the Patriots knew their worth, Connor had often wondered. They then heard footsteps coming down the steps. It was the maid.

"Connor?" she said, "He's asking for you."

"How is he?"

"He's getting weaker by the day. Go to him."

….

Achilles greeted his apprentice as he came into the room. The old man was lying in his bed as his old age would not let him out of it. To look upon his mentor now brought about some sadness—a disturbance within him, but he ignored it to speak out his latest exploits. It was still trouble that Lee was still alive. Only he would be willing to kill him because he knows that this monster of a man deserves it. The old man huffed, knowing that there was more to this youth's troubled mind. It wouldn't be just Lee he would have to kill; Haytham must be dealt with as well.

"When you first came to me, you understood what had to be done. Swore you'd seen it through. If not for the Brotherhood, for your people and those threatened by the Templars."

"But with Lee gone, my father might…"

"Listen to me," he gripped Connor's arm and looked him in the eye, "You have not come this far to throw it all away over misplaced sentiment. _Both. Men. Must. Die_."

"Ach-Achilles…"

"There is nothing more to discuss." And he fixed himself to go to sleep. His student knew that once he went to sleep nothing would wake him, so he left as is. At the doorway, the novice stood, picking her nails and obviously eavesdropping. She would speak to the old man as well, but what would she say? What would he say? Most likely, with all the energy he had left, he'd knock her in the head and lecture her. For some reason, it would be one of the things she'll really miss. Looking past the novice, the maid waited with Lafayette. The French General stepped forward in apprehension. There was much to discuss, but not out here in the open; so they went down to the basement.

"The Comte de Grasse said yes. You need only join his fleet in Chesapeake Bay and they will serve as required. But what exactly is it you intend?"

"It's better that I show you," he took out the built-out floor plans of the Templar fort, "Charles Lee may have been dismissed, but it does not mean we are safe."

"But the Commander—"the girls sucked their teeth in unison, interrupting Lafayette. Washington really does not know how to deal with criminals.

"The Commander underestimates the threat and no more time can be wasted trying to convince him otherwise. I must do this on my own." Tsipporah snapped her head up, but said nothing. She knew what he meant—what he was going to do and she could not change his mind. _Hell_, no one can, really.

"Do _what_, exactly?" the French General cocked a brow.

"Kill Charles Lee."

He took the floor plans, explaining what he was going to do in order to breach their walls. As he did this, the blonde kept commenting in her companion's ear that they might be out of the way for a while as he sets the plan into motion. Lafayette was a bit overwhelmed on how Connor was explaining such a radical conception to reach Lee—more so to his determination. This was going to be one hell of a fight before a successful assassination. They were to meet underground since the fort itself is surrounded by a militarize area. Once they have the fleet at their side, the fort will be bombarded and he will slip inside. The novice wanted to spin her head a full 360○ when he mentioned that he was going to slip inside as they fire on the fort. Last time they executed such a plan; she had high-blood pressure for a mere week and couldn't stand or breathe right. Maybe his innate insanity runs in the family. Why not? Clan Mother seemed calm, but even she had radical ideas. She tried not to laugh.

Once the plans were explained, the French General bid them farewell to get a head-start on things, kissing the girls' hands along the way, and wishing good health to Achilles. The novice mumbled something, but quickly quieted herself before the young assassin would notice. How he not notice, what, with his keen senses that were almost bestial?

"Is there something you wish to ask of me?" he thinned his eyes as he watched her as if he was on the hunt for prey.

"Nothing, boss. Just knowing that you're gonna put me on cannon duty. My heart palpitations mean nothing to you."

"Is that all?"

"Nope. _Wait_… yeah. You're also fucking crazy for trying blow a fort and slipping inside again. You are more insane than anyone I've ever met—_including_ your cousin! Even Kateri doesn't—you know what," she walked away, "I don't even know her that well to be talking shit now, do I?" Connor shook his head, taking her arm to go in the direction of the Aquila. She shouted protests to liberate her, but they fell on deaf ears. Before they were near the docks, he pulled her in front of him to face him.

"Now you listen to me—heed my every word: venturing to and from Chesapeake Bay, you will follow my orders. There will be no complaints. There will be no questioning of my command. Once we have the fleet at our command, you will stay aboard the Aquila as I go underground. You will not so much as set a foot off the ship until I return from the fort. Is that understood?"

"Connor—"

"Is that understood?" he asked calmly, but the serious undertone straightened her out. The novice sniffed. Disobeying him would mean that she didn't trust him. He's not made of iron, but he's sure to sink if something goes wrong.

"Yes, sir," looked into his face. If not for the psychotherapy, she'd be breaking down right now. "I will not leave the Aquila unless you return…" she austerely complied, "But you better not die, boss. Too many have already. Promise me—"

"You have my word. I will return no matter the circumstances."

* * *

**Two more chapters left! *_***

**And so here we are, thinking everything will go smoothly. Nope. Of course it won't. No conflict; no story. At least the end will benefit everyone. :D**

**Thanks for reading, we're almost done! XD**

**PS: The reception song is Celtic Woman's "_Téir Abhaile Riú". _Good music.**


	29. Chapter 29: Admission

_"By the time a man realizes that maybe his father was right, he usually has a son who thinks he's wrong."_

**Charles Wadsworth**

* * *

"You desire to stay in the 18th century, but to what end?" Juno paced back and forth, "Do not lie to me; I am not blind to what you yearn for."

"Then what am I yearning for, Juno?" Tsipporah sat in the nexus of what should be the captain's quarters. As much as she should be going home to her family, her old life in the 21st century, what harm would it do to stay a couple of timelines behind? Would it produce an imbalance in time should it be done? She had to know. The very contemplation of had always left her sleepless at night. The woman in white knew what the Eyes wanted. She always knew for it was the very reason she cursed her.

"The guardian you were tasked to watch. Simply, that was your mission, so that his descendants may receive the information that he's held. Humans, in time, will create devices that will surely reach to us in the temples that we've scattered across the world. And those who wish to breach our sanctuaries will have no chance—no choice but to abandon their campaign for conquest over the will of humans. The human race will be free should you pass on the message." The novice bit her lip upon being told why she had to go back. It would be selfish to stay, but… but she…

"Even with all the curses you set on me, I cannot alter my decision. If I am really Artemis—if her database is really inside me—can't I just use that to stay and go back to the 21st century whenever I want?"

"Your powers are not yet evolved for such things yet. Do not attempt the impossible, Artemis."

"The impossible is what you've been trying to do as well with those rings of yours and those, too, work in some small way. You think I am just here in the 18th century to follow your orders. I am not. This is where I belong—"

"Because you have found love here more possible than any other time you lived. There are greater things—"

"You had a husband once, Juno! Don't _fucking_ tell me that there are greater things than falling in love because I know sure as hell that it's anything but unsure and impartial. If these things never happened to me… I'd never see my old self again or realize how happy I can be. There has to be a way… _please, Juno_."

The spirit in white was unmoved, but not without wondering of her follower's words. Yes, she was married once. She was happy once, but to lose it all was the most painful feeling in the world. She even explained the dangers of how the pain will not end should the feelings of affection persist. For a while, the Eyes agreed and never questioned further, but the entire lecture went downhill when she decided to confess the very emotion that might bring about calamity. Even worse, she came together with the guardian one night where her emotions were at the peak of revelation. The Eyes of Aphrodite couldn't resist matching them when the tension fully bled into each other. Juno shook her head. She could not stop the nature of the goddesses. Ziio was no different as she, too, shared not just the abilities of Artemis, but the very database of her—the virgin, the hunter, the healer, and the mother. Every part of Artemis was with them—these humans. Once she saw someone worthy in her eyes, she would trust them, take them—_love them_. It was inevitable…

"The guardian must prove himself and you must do this as well. Bring the amulet to me once he has destroyed the Templar Order. Returning you to your own time is to preserve our order in time. This needs to be done."

"'Needs to be done'?" she hissed, "No. This is something you basically want. It's you who wants me to be out of the Brotherhood circle because your daughter lost her life defending it and believing in humans to change, and be different—"

**"Enough!"** Juno's anger stemmed through the nexus, creating a mild shockwave that the novice hoped the other crew members on the other side of the plane couldn't feel. It was quite rare to see her superior like this much like how people who closely knows Connor recognize him to be stoic. The woman's once empty eyes were full with something fierce; it was too shocking to overlook. Juno caught her breath once the novice went blank. "Yes, it is true. Artemis, along with my husband, had such care for the humans, but trying to join them only entangled them into great peril. I cannot bear to lose what is left of her by distorting any order that was left by her. It is the purpose of the Eyes as it is for Aphrodite. I have loved them both."

"You can't lose something so close, Juno. No one can force you to."

"You speak as the guardian would. His ideals are infectious, it seems. Perhaps I should be proud of that. He takes after his own mother who is also a part of Artemis. This makes him a part of the hunter as well. It runs in his blood. Then this path you've followed him on… the negativity has somewhat lost its potential." The novice looked up with a snap, nearly giving herself a whiplash. It sounded almost as if the white spirit wanted to believe in what the novice was saying. Quite comical if she did, especially when she admitted to not having that much interest in what the novice wanted to do once all of this ends. If she returns home, nothing will be in the way, but the novice kept insisting on staying—at least in a way where she won't have to be separated from home. "Complete your task and we shall see what is to be done with you. You hold my daughter's powers—use them well."

* * *

The novice snapped from her trance as she sat in the captain's quarters while the ship made its way to Chesapeake Bay. Connor already met up with the Comte. She couldn't help but laugh at the man's ignorance to the young assassin's potential. Theoretically speaking, the Aquila is all he'll need to take down the British fleets. She was told by the first mate that they've eliminated many fleets while she was gone last time. It made her proud of him in a way; knowing that he's even taken control of the waters that were once under Templar influence. Haytham may not have noticed, but she heard him say under his breath of how proud he was of his son—maybe even a little jealous. It made her wonder even more of what he had written in that journal of his. She's not the nosy type, aware that such knowledge was most likely left for his son to read. The suspense in waiting to give it to him was terrible. He entrusted to Angie and no one else. Why?

Once they were at their destination, the crew steeled themselves more than ever. The crates filled to the brim with firearms were ready for use. The cannons had their load close as the crew, too, were ignited more than ever. This naval battle wasn't just going to be for looting. The captain was at the side with his telescope in hand, watching for any offensive. Tsipporah emerged from his quarters, sensing an ill omen. It came to her suddenly, yet she was unsure of what it was.

"Is something the matter?" the captain asked, aware of the girl's presence. She sighed and leaned over on the rail.

"_Something_, captain," her eyes narrowed, "I don't know what, but something's coming. I will not leave the ship to find out though. A promise is a promise."

Observers were anything but crazy. The sailors knew of this. Their captain was the one with insane ideas for thwarting the enemies until the ocean swallowed their ship whole. The gunnery officers shouted at the top of their lungs that they were ahead just at that moment of ailing premonitions. Connor reciprocated in the heat of shouting orders to battle stations as the men were prepared to defend their ship—their country. Just as the novice went scurrying below deck in aid of carrying the cannon-balls, the captain ordered her to come by his side. She already knew what she was to be told.

"You are to stay in my quarters until the battle is won, understood?" the novice wrinkled her face mildly.

"With all due respect Captain, I will do anything but leave this ship as you ordered before, but what good am I as extra baggage?" he stood his ground as he looked her in the face. His hands were behind his back and his back was straight.

"…"

"Please, captain…" she held determination in her eyes. They were not ones a person would wear to beg, but ones to tell another that they were ready for anything. Connor wanted to cock a smirk for he knew he had the same look in his own strength was being questioned. "Should we board, you are to stay. Kill any man among the enemy who tries to take or loot the Aquila. Is that understood?"

The observer smiled, nodding in his resolve as the captain shrugged her off to get the cannons ready. Obediently, she helped load every last cannon, jumping back and forth across the deck. Even the first mate had to applaud her swiftness overtime. The native woman aboard would not say as much since nothing impresses her in wartime anymore. After seeing her own daughter weep for hours on end and her grandchildren ask of how their father really died, she could no longer find a reason to smile. She allowed the sails to be filled with air, taking in as wind as they could. As the current pushed them forward, the men fired upon the captain's command. The endless flaming hailstorm of the Aquila never seemed to end as the British ships were sunk. The English flags burned, the redcoats scattered on their own man o' wars, and the captains spewing desperate orders. They were certainly no match for the Ghost of the Seas. Aquila's men cheered for her countless victories, still they rigorously run from one end to the other to fire upon other ships without mercy. The integrity, however, was starting to pose as a problem. The British fleets were endless. Even as the men were successful with their swift kills—precise shots—they still were greatly outnumbered. Gradually, this churned a secret of cold frustration in the gut of man. Sailors were feeling antsy.

"My God…" Faulkner bit his tongue, "Where are our blasted reinforcements?!"

"They will come," Connor reassured as he steered, "We must hold bay until they do."

"You sound optimistic, my dear nephew. Maybe they will come just as you imagine they would."

"Do not mock the captain, Aghanashimi," the novice bumped her shoulder crudely, "He is licensed to give orders and even admirals respect another's wishes. Help will come as promised."

"What is this? All of a sudden you obey his orders and fail to argue. How obedient you've become, girl."

"Nice to see you're back to your old self. You can go back to the rum bottle you've crawled out of now." And with that, the elder resorted to a frown. The novice went back to see to the cannons, but realized something that escaped their attention in the midst of the heated battle. They were running out on cannon-fire. Damn, how was this overlooked? The novice leapt her way back to the captain and reported. As usual, he kept his cool. The novice on the other hand wasn't too sure if he was really worried or simply internally screaming because she knew she was doing both.

"You worry too much, observer," he kept his eyes at the horizon. She grimaced as much as possible.

"Sir—"

**"Man o' War!"** the gunnery men shouted. This was bad. They were getting low on ammunition. Another set of British ships were out for their blood to be offered to the sea in the deepest malice. They would see to it that each and every rebel that dared oppose them would pay. The men fired as much as they could to sink the ships, but once the gunpowder was running low; there was panic to be had. They couldn't afford to lose anymore. Many palms and feet grew cold if not for the fear of death. _To lose at such a crucial time…_ The elder native woman grabbed the arm of the novice, dragging her to be placed before the captain, or so her nephew claimed to be.

"Ratonhnhaké ton, you can use her," she enunciated, "She can stop the ships." Connor knew what she was asking. She had done something risky as such before when she attempted to rescue the elders. It was only for a few hours that she was asleep, but to use her powers recklessly once more. He could not bear the thought of her mind being forever trapped in limbo because of a small favor. His eyes wavered with a maelstrom of emotions. They were all the confirmation the aunt needed. "You cannot just let her collect dust and do nothing. You know she carries the powers of the Great Spirits that guide the earth. You must take advantage of this."

Tsipporah saw it in him—he wouldn't order for such a thing. Juno even told her once that if the guardian is truly different than what most humans predictably are, than he would never take advantage of the opportunity to make use of risky powers such as hers. Artemis' abilities were merciless for she was the hunter. _No… not just the hunter_. It was all adding up now. What Juno said before…

_"He takes after his own mother who is also a part of Artemis. This makes him a part of the hunter as well. It runs in his blood."_

"Captain?" the novice took her arm back, "There is another way. There is another way, but I'm gonna need your help."

"What is it, Tsipporah?" these men among them knew of the First Civilization, but what the novice spewed so casually.

"The white spirit of the First Civilization told me that because your mother was an observer that automatically makes you Artemis, too—don't you get it? Ziio is the Mother, I am the Healer, which inherently makes you the—"Cannon-fire from the enemy started to hail on them and the captain ordered for the crew to duck as if they had no choice. The captain pulled the novice closer to him as she continued to explain over the wood splitting and iron flying. "I won't be able to use my powers to hurt anyone anyway, captain because there's only a part of the spirit's power in me, but it's sleeping in you as the Hunter. I need your help if we're to save these men and secure Chesapeake Bay."

"What would you have me do?"

"Give me your hand, for one," she quickly took out a clean knife, hastily swiping the blade against his finger until the red of him dripped from his fingertips. He flinched at the sudden action, nearly stealing back his hand. "Nope. **Nope.** _Nope_. I need your blood for a minute." With little discomfiture, she suckled on his naked finger, drinking all the warm liquid that trickled out on his skin before pulling away. Connor was unsure whether this placed him in an awkward position for he was used to her strange tactics as an observer if anything else. The novice still kept herself near to the wooden ground as the cannons still flew about. She was uncertain whether or not this unorthodoxy of an idea was going to work, but she felt something in her churn. The hate, the love, the determination to protect, the overwhelming yearning for peace to rear its head for this nation… was this all Connor's emotions? Even so, she sensed a hint of uncertainty. For someone so stern, he sure repressed a spiral of sentiments within himself. She continued to slink away to the bow until a voice yelled over the majority. She knew better to wait for his permission.

"And what makes you so sure that I will allow you to do something so dangerous, observer?" she cracked a cocky smile.

"You didn't stop me from sucking you off, captain!" she leapt onto the railing, turning to fly to the farthest part of the bow. Luckily, the cannons stopped firing on the ship for that one moment. It provided little solace to the men when it ceased. The novice did not care. They must be dealt with. Connor may be the captain, but hell would freeze over before she allowed any more of her friends die. It couldn't happen. Not again. _Never again_.

"_You have to be certain of what you're doing_," a voice said, "_My son's blood is with you now. Should you flutter or hesitate, you will _destroy _him_."

"If there's something I never forget, Ziio, its spells." There was no one there, yet it sounded so vivid in its speech as if she was really there. For once, Connor felt it, too; the presence of a kindred spirit. The enemy ships looked ready once more. They had more weaponry at their disposal. Tsipporah stared out, unblinking, folding her hands…

_Kuwata tsunowo vralai, tsuriji pfuralekai,_

_kwondzuvai undovartsu wronduwail,_

_Tjortetei jeki liago, Jiunmata ivelischpfuli, _

_neftyoma sorepiyamei,_

_Schijiyako alefni fatalliliya, _

_Nic'hpisfa unhoreselye,_

_Otrajain aforeje kurasolda, _

_Towari hatasei mic'hatasei tsufrallai,_

_Otrajain aforeje kurasolda, _

_Towari hatasei mic'hatasei tsufrallai ilja_

Before the crew's eyes, the novice's hair—every strand of it—became aglow with a heavy channeling of lightening as the sea around them ceased to rage. As for the British ships, they had fell victim to the ballad's ill-temper. The sailors knew this accursed lyric for it would bring about the animosity of the First Civilization when it was at its worst. For the men that were slain shamefully, for the towns with no militia that had to suffer… it all had come back with a vengeance in her voice. When the novice opened her eyes, the ships were ready to combust around them, so they did. The cannons had backfired on them, causing the ships to burn with haste. Every sudden explosion painted the sky darker and darker with hellish flames and smoke. Tsipporah wobbled a little from the overuse in the Hunter's ability; shocked that so much power had slept under the assassin's skin. Just as she almost fell from the bow, a strong hand reached out and clasped around her wrist as she hung over the edge. The young woman blinked a few times before looking into the face of her savior.

"This is why I asked of you to never use your powers."

"Boss…" her chest heaved with an impenitent smile, "That wasn't _my_ power…" The captain wrinkled his brow as he hoisted her up. Instinctively, she held a tight grip on his collar. He may not have noticed for her face was bowed to her collar, but she was scared out of her mind. Surely, this was not the sort of power meant for her to have, which is why she was the Healer. Connor was still entranced by her last remark.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Only observers can use the abilities that Those That Came Before had—observers are girls. Ah, worry about the nit-bits later, man. Where's the reinforcements?"

"Aye, but with all the chaos you caused, miss, I don't suppose we'll need them as much," Faulkner felt more or less relieved that the horizon was clear. His nerves were well rested… until another ship appeared on the horizon. No. They weren't ready. The ammunition was out. The novice was exhausted from using another's blood. Aghanashimi took her nephew's shoulder and jerked her head in the direction of the steering wheel. Connor darted his eyes to the side before complying.

"Mr. Faulkner, see that this young woman rests in my quarters."

"You're gonna do something crazy again, aren't you?" the novice asked, deadpanned. Connor said nothing more and got to his feet, heading for the wheel. The crew was a bit puzzled as to what the captain was resolving to do. He took the wheel and spun it sharply towards the direction of the single enemy ship. Waves of the waters they rode seemed to pull them even closer now that the very air ceased to create strong winds. It was of little consequence. The sails had to be open to catch some form of wind. And it did. At the last minute, a rogue wind picked up the sails, pushing the ship even further towards the enemy. The men felt their stomachs churn when they finally caught on to what the captain was doing. _He planned to ram the Aquila into the enemy_. The only ones who were cool about it were his aunt, his observer, and his first mate. They all braced themselves as the ship impaled into the other's side, signaling the men to board.

Tsipporah could not leave the ship for anything, though. Once the men were out boarding or docking somewhere, she had to remain for the captain to come back—that was his order and her promise. She stayed in the captain's quarters, lying on the bench he would occasionally lay on to rest. His room even smelled like him—the entire greenery of the Frontier. Every time she would be tempted to embrace him, his scent; she would be reminded of _that night_ over and over again. If Angie was right about anything it's that there's always that one person you've been with like never before that you'll never forget. If she left, all of it would haunt her every day—_what could have been_. She wondered if the spirits were mocking her as many couples in the village fell in love, had intimate engagements, and got married. Already, some had children. It was as if the universe was painfully calling out to her and her alone. As the ruckus sounded outside, she sat wondering how long before the British completely leaves the colonies, the Templars would fall from now and… and if she could…

The novice barely moved as the doors of the room were forcibly opened and the captain entered. She had to admit that that the boarding was pretty quick. All that contemplating only took… what? Only ten minutes of mental montage? The captain shrugged his shoulders, seeing that the observer was still safe, but looked as bored as ever.

"The fleet the Comte has promised has arrived. We must return to New York and meet with him now. Prepare—"he noticed that she barely moved, "If you are still not well, then I suppose Aghanashimi can cover your duties."

"Can I ask you something, Connor?" she abruptly sat up and watched with tired eyes, "Do you… really want me to stay?" His façade remained neutral as he closed the door behind him. She knew him too well by now by his lack of response that he was either thinking about it or he really didn't want to answer. He really didn't want to answer. "I know it's your job to make sure that you kill off the Templars, but you never answer my question at all—"

"I have given you my answer many times before and still you would not accept it. Even if you were to stay, I would not be able to give the both of us time. There is so much to do in the colonies. I cannot spare a moment for anything a… 'significant other' should provide." She gave a gradual, icy stare. "Would it really matter? You will leave once my work is finished. Now, we set sail for New York, I expect you to be ready." She tugged on his hand; the hand that she suckled his blood from. It may have been a while after, but the taste was still fresh. She felt a lot more than what she previously expected. His hopes, his determination, his strength, _his love_… there was more than what he would allow to show on the surface. His yearning was stronger than what she had expected it to be. Even if there was no time he could give, he still didn't want to lose her whether it is to the Templars, the soldiers, or the end of their journey.

"I know you're not much of a liar. If not that then you sure as hell are hiding."

"I have nothing to hide, Martel," her name was exhaled with such temper.

"Shut up. You want me to stay and that's it. You pretty much think it'll anchor me down with some pressure to stay and you don't want that for me." She knew what she was talking about. It was written in his blood. The assassin turned back to the door, knowing he had other important things to do rather than stay for her bickering. As soon as he reached for the knob, she wedged herself between the two to trouble the way through.

"Don't…" one hand splayed on his chest while the other gripped the door knob, "You think just knowing me isn't enough, do you?" She felt his chest rise a fall in small way as his heated breath crept onto the skin of her hand. It took a lot of restraint to keep from visibly shuddering.

"No, it is not," he finally admitted, "To not have something dear to you for the rest of your life is something more painful than a curse from the spirits. However, I do not want to be selfish of your welfare. You must return home as it is everyone's wishes when this war is done. Despite how I feel about you… I cannot keep you here. You must go back. For both our sakes—if it truly makes you happy." The novice's hand gained more and more pressure from the gravity of his words, lowering until she brought it to her own bosom. She would smile as this was an answer anyone would expect from the boss. Her head unconsciously nodded in understanding.

"Sorry to keep you from captaining the ship. I'm still a little tired. I'll just get out of the way," she felt like an idiot now, asking him heavily as if she expected him to lie, "I won't leave the ship until you come back, okay? Not one fo—"his hand petted the top of her head, feeling at the unruly curls that grew from her scalp. It was a wonder to him if he would admit how he loved to comb his hand through the disheveled, soft locks of hair. It was more a reassurance that he would never antagonize her and that everything was going to be alright. "Connor… what the fuck are you doing? You're being weird again."

"I will go into the fort soon to kill Charles Lee."

"You say this guy's name more than mine. I'm a little jealous." He'd find her quirky remarks mildly amusing, but now was not the time. He had to go back to the wheel. "Boss?" her voice hushed as he brought her body closer to his until he leaned in, innocently bringing their foreheads together.

"I will return shortly," he whispered.

The novice cupped his defined cheek in her hand, curving her neck for her lips to meet his. He didn't let it last, lest it he would drown in the sweetness of it. As strange as it was, her company brought him a rare sense peace before he would leave to slaughter. She moved out of the way of the door for him to go through and—without awareness—a tear rolled down her cheek as he left, closing the door behind him. As she was pressing herself against the cold wood, the ominous premonition crawled under her skin once more. This battle they had fought to keep the Bay secured nearly turned for the worst, but that was hardly a worry anymore. There was something else deep down in her gut telling her something. The novice wondered if it was Ziio trying to communicate. _No_. If such was the case, then she would've heard her by now. Her voice was always strong and precise. No way could she miss it. Then who was trying to speak to her? Could it be… _Artemis_…?

….

"You have grown so much, Ratonhnhaké ton," the native woman started, "I know your mother would be proud." He gave a small snort in response that lacked much empathy. If he wanted praise for his progress in this revolution, he'd rather not hear them from his own aunt. His first mate saw it in his face as well as the dragon lady. There was no blame to be had. She had done nothing but baptize him in abuse ever since he was born. The only one to keep a wedge between him and her were the elders and his mother. "I am glad you decided to make use of that girl. You know she is capable of doing more, yet you hesitate to do so. That is why the both of you are a bit better than before, I suppose. Still, she is weak now. Repressing all of that power…"

"If you still consider her weak, Aghanashimi, then prove to me that you can perform her duties better than she—as I ordered you to. You may be a member of my family in our village, but whether here at sea or on land, you will not disrespect my woman and I will not allow it to continue."

"Your 'woman' cannot stay here even if you have imprinted her, boy. It is better to keep the relationship impartial than putting her high on a pedestal." Connor gripped the wheel until the handles began to creak. "Your idiot father was the same with my sister. He thought he could keep her by his side forever, but he would not have the time to raise a family. His work ethic kept him on his toes. Even if they stayed together, it would've been a disaster."

"Aghana—"

"And you think you can just slay Charles Lee and take back all the sentiments that were never there? Just what makes you think your father will accept you with open arms? He's a Templar! He cannot accept you because you are his enemy." She turned on her heel roughly as she went below decks to mind her own business. The crew above made no comment or noise in protest to her attitude, but continued to work as if her words did not get to them. She would always insult the captain. The captain himself would never give into any grievous insult—not even one from his own aunt. However, when it came down to those he valued the most… An obnoxious creak of the door echoed and slammed against the wood of the ship, causing everyone aboard to jump as if they were still under attack.

When they turned their heads for a second, they saw that it was the novice with her brows deeply arched and her nose wrinkled like an agitated beast. The dragon lady thinned her eyes as the novice made her way to the center of the ship. The native woman followed suit. "You will not be here for long and you fail to fulfill your role as the Eyes. You don't use your powers, you are not even welcome in our village, and you shame the honorable spirits by giving into your personal desires. Why don't you hurry up and go back from whence you came?"

"Ah…" the novice gave a tight smile, "That's nice, dragon lady. Now tell me how you really feel."

"You—"

"Yeah, you know what, _don't_. I don't care if you're Ziio's sister. Let me be the first to say 'go fuck yourself' because all you do is belittle everyone whose related to you or works with you. Now I'll never try to offend my native elders as customs follows, but the last thing I need is some washed up, cranky old bitch telling me off behind my back and rubbing it in my superior's face. Do yourself a favor, Aghanashimi—why don't you camp out in a rum bottle if you don't want to deal with any of us?" The native woman stood still save for her clenched fist trembling furiously as the novice proceeded to turn back to the captain's quarters. She really wanted to get that out of her system for a long time ever since she first met the woman stomping into homestead, poking her down, and dragging Kateri off of the property abrasively. It was always painful to watch. She wouldn't dare lay a hand on her, but something had to be said even if her attitude was improving. Before the novice took the door knob in her hand, there was a mild cheer that swept over the men for her efforts. Even the captain admitted to himself that it was very brave of her to stand up to his raging aunt. He ordered for a 'no sail' as they approached the docks.

"I will go to meet the Comte. Mr. Faulkner, look over the Aquila. Make sure she is well supplied promptly. It will be evening soon, so before I head underground, I will light the signal to shell the fort. _Tsipporah_." He caught her with her head peeking out of his door and she cracked an innocent smile, attempting to slip back inside through his sixth sense. "Aid in the operation of the cannons, but do not—_by any means_—leave this ship until I have returned."

"Aye, aye, captain!" she saluted. She kept her stern form until he leapt off the rail of the ship in his standard assassin uniform, looking in her general direction from the side for a moment. It was that distinct second that she felt his concern. He ran off into the crowd, blending in to the naked eye, but she could still see. Every step away from her forced more and more air out of her lungs. She had to shake off the empty feeling to cover the ship's damages, so she had to wait for the men to come back from merchants on other neighboring ships in order to purchase more ammunition amongst other things. What happened out at sea… it made her throat burn that the power of the Hunter was so destructive and it was in Connor's blood this whole time. When materialized into energy, it could sink ships? Perhaps his physical strength isn't the only thing to be feared. The fact that he could take down two men in a hit-and-run, kill five bears in an instant, and lift lumber like paper is impressive, but to have much more energy than her… She sputtered her lips at the thought of him actually needing her for anything.

"Ha, he doesn't need me; that badass motherfucker."

"What's that miss?" the first mate asked with an amused look on his face.

"Nothing. Just that the captain is pretty amazing, isn't he?"

"Of course, Ms. Sipsy, but what I can't muster is to why ye can't stay with him. Even for a tough-skinned lass like ye-self, surely, you would want more than to just be here on the job. The captain even said it himself the last time ye left that you were quite an… 'aesthetically-pleasing' gal." The novice burst out laughing. "Personally, I think he was trying to say that you broke his heart, but his pride as a man wouldn't let him."

"I always thought he was sociopath like me—no, wait, he was. We had a mutual relationship that consisted of me wanting to sock him the balls and him wanting to bash my head on the dining room table; we were the ideal BFF's." Some of the crew cackled at her sarcasm. "Good times. _Good times_."

"…" Faulkner wondered if they ever made an attempt to go at each other's throats, "Did he…?"

"Yeah, he actually did bash my head on the dining room table after I kicked him in the nuts for stepping on my favorite shoes. I punched him in the chest and he went full macho on me, breaking my back against the table. After that afternoon of domestic destruction, we mildly became the best of friends. Achilles was pissed that we fucked up his dining room more than necessary, though, so we went Boston to go shopping the next day."

"Oh, Christ, you kids…" he shook his head at how casual she told the tale, too.

"Hey, don't judge. He was a strong-ass kid then. I know because I was over 170 lbs. How do you back drop that much weight—"

"No, not that. Just how do you two act so casual about separating a second time after all that's happened?" Tsipporah looked to the side.

"I don't know, Faulkner. That's what scares the shit out of me."

* * *

"They say you took down that man-of-war all alone. Perhaps Lafayette did not exaggerate when he spoke of your abilities," the Comte complimented, "As promised, my ships are yours to command. What do you require?"

"Five of them must enter New York's harbor, flying British flags."

"Wait, wait. I thought you might need some pirates killed or goods transported…" the Comte tried to wrap this around his head as much as he could, "And instead you ask for us to, what, _shell_ New York?"

"No. Of course not," _still…_ "Only part of it."

Indeed, it sounded quite radical with the idea of bombarding New York, but it was the price to pray to simply infiltrate this fort. Different and risky tactics had to be performed in order for the day to go "smoothly". Connor explained in detail of what he was to do in order to get inside, thus the fleet was a crucial use. The Comte still didn't follow as much, but a promise is a promise. He shouted orders to his men to ready themselves and they swiftly obeyed. Once everything was to be set, Connor ventured down to the city's underground tunnels to meet with Lafayette as Stephane explained as they met and walked from the docks. The recruit gave a quick look around before giving the young assassin his full attention.

"Where is _mademoiselle Martel_—the young woman who follows you?"

"She has duties she must tend to. As do we. Are the recruits ready?"

"Yes. They will sweep the militant forces while the fort is bombarded."

They constantly made sure that they weren't being followed save for the recruits watching their backs. As the coast was clear, the two went below the city to meet with Lafayette at last. As the French General greeted the infamous assassin, the native man backed away a little in knowing that the other man meant to get in his personal space as it is in the French custom of greetings. The general didn't take this rejection to heart, however; only directing him down to the tunnels that will lead him to the militant district to creep inside the Templars' fort. With lantern given in hand, he made haste down the dark, damp corridors until he was in the reaches of the restricted areas. Quietly, he allowed his body to walk on air as he moved up to the surface to avoid the risk of his notoriety skyrocketing. Every step was careful, yet swift to bypass the notice of any guards; even as he ran up the fort's lighting tower. He turned his head for a second to see a group of ships flying British flags. Amongst one of them was a design he was all too familiar with—the Aquila—despite it flying the Union flag. He averted his attention, focusing on getting to the top of the tower and once he did, a borrowed branch was taken to take flame from the lantern and was thrown into the beacon. The signal was set. Next, the cannon fire's dying mercy in the form of iron and searing heat. The wind that carried them was no different.

Connor made a leap from the tower into a hay-bale, now that the guards were distracted and dispersed by the rapid assault. Everything was moving as planned, but not what had occurred after. Once he jumped out of the bale, a stray cannon nearly hit him if not for the tower's wall he was close to. It failed to impale him, but the speed and weight that it carried had knocked him to the ground. At first, nothing, so he took the bale cart as support to stand. The pain channeled through his nerves from his head as soon as he strained to get back on his feet. Every object in his sight began to blur and fuse that even his Eagle Vision was utterly disrupted. He muttered to himself to keep away from the guards as he would be finished in such a vulnerable state. He continued with a struggle to keep himself upright, using the walls around him to sustain balance. Many things spun around, but regained some control when he found himself unconsciously at the center at the fort.

"Where are you, Charles?" he grunted, trying his eyes at every corner until a cluttering noise was made behind him.

"_Gone_." He turned to the source of the voice as much as his ears would let him for even his hearing was disoriented and could barely defend himself. Not even for the punch that landed on him, causing blood to seep out from his nasal cavity. Keeping a short distance, he realized who his attacker was…

"Father…" Haytham resumed his relentless assault, throwing back-handed punches and kneeing Connor in the chest. The young assassin saw that his opponent was indeed more resilient than the others he's fought. He had to use different strategies, so he knocked in the family jewels as a start, which made Haytham cringe—enough as an opening to have the upper hand, if only for a second. Once he had his arm behind him, the man still taunted.

"Come now, you cannot hope to match me, Connor. For all your skills, you're still but a boy—with so much left to learn." And with that, the assassin brandished his hidden-switch blade and buried it into his father's forearm.

"Give me Lee!"

"Impossible," he replied, holding his torn muscle, "He is the promise of a better future. The sheep need a shepherd."

"He has been dismissed and censured. He can do nothing for now."

"A temporary setback. He will be restored," he unsheathed his sword, "The only obstacle left would be the stubbornness of the Observers. If they will not listen to reason—especially the one who commits herself to you—then perhaps we, too, must persist in matters of persuasion." Connor paled if not for the concussion he was presently suffering from. He held his tomahawk in his hand, fearing where Lee may have fled to.

**"Where is he?"** he charged in with clarity in his blood.

….

The crew loaded the cannons like madmen as the novice kept screeching at them to keep firing on the fort. As she was told, she was not to stop despite her fears creeping under her skin of whether or not the assassin she followed was still in good condition. Her pondering came to an abrupt halt as she felt a heavy wave of confusion consume her. Her head was pounding suddenly and everything began to spin and blur. Every bit of her skull was clawing at her temples. She collapsed in mid-sentence as she repeated orders.

"K…Keep firing…" unwilling tears streamed from her eyes as her vision was swallowed by a mild darkness. Some crewmen including the first mate came to her aid as her eyelids fluttered beyond her control. "D…Didn't you hear m-m-me? I s-s-said…"

"No time for that, miss!" Faulkner placed his hand on her forehead, "The captain must be hurt as well."

"NO!" she sat up recklessly that the dizziness doubled, "He said… he said to keep firing until he comes back. He'll-he'll come back. H-h-h-he said… my head…" the first mate calmed her down and lent his shoulder, bringing her to her feet. Again, she had to stay in the captain's quarters for a while. The novice heard the door close, but the assault continued. And it sounded like it would last for a long time. Perhaps forever. It felt very unsatisfying to be useless once again—to be a sitting duck in the midst of battle, but her head was throbbing fierce in pain. How Connor was managing was a mystery to her. Her questions were gradually answered with the next few surges of pain up her nose. This was stemming from suffering to peeving. He was obviously getting into a brawl for new wounds rapidly appeared on her body. She gave up entirely, closing her eyes to sleep off the whole thing…

The next sound that rang was the cheering of the men out on deck. Tsipporah woke with a start as they cheered for… something. She lifted her hand to rub her eyes, but opening them proved a bit of challenge for they still swayed. Her legs felt heavy, so there was no way she was going to stand on them soon. The least she could do was sat up without so much pain spiking her head, although, she left more or less with a skull-crunching headache. She clutched and pulled at her hair as the throbbing became chronic between few seconds of blinking alone. She forced her eyes to open more to ease her visual.

"I take it that you are well."

"AHH!" she jumped, accidentally bumping her head on the wooden wall behind her, inflicting pain on both of them, "AH, shit! Agh! Uh… Connor! Oh my God!" she threw her arms around his shoulders and realized that they almost butted foreheads again, so she paused in mid-jump. "You're alive! And you came back!"

"I am sorry to have worried you."

"That's okay. There was a shit load of cannons firing. I expected unavoidable injuries at some point. So…" her fingers tapped a rhythm on his shoulder, "Did you do it? Because genetically speaking, I took some of your blood and no doubt some of my DNA rubbed of and the Passage Field would automatically come up. I know Angie spoiled some things about the whole First Civilization and—"

"Tsipporah," he snapped mildly.

"What?" she read his expression, "What is it?"

He looked as if there were words; many words to be said, but he lacked the prudence to speak. He needn't say for she already saw in some context. _Disappointment._ Still, she did not know what, but knew that something was wrong. His chest was heaving heavily. Instead of thinking hard on the previous events, he faced her with his recent concern.

"The Observers are in danger."

"What?"

"You should hide from prying eyes—you and Emily."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa… why are you telling me this now? We're in a fucking revolution, Connor—this is a war on our own doorstep. There's no rock to hide under in this country. There's no way to avoid open conflict."

"Of course open conflict cannot be avoided. However, all I ask is for you to comply with the given orders." She bowed her head, not wanting to hear any more. "I am glad that you followed my command this time around."

"Why, though? Was something going to happen; because I've had a bad feeling about it ever since we left Chesapeake Bay. You killed Lee, _didn't you_?"

He didn't reply—only gazed through her as if she was a spirit herself. Once the first mate announced that they were back at the docks of homestead, Connor got on his feet and turned to the door. It swung open and was kept that way, knowing that novice would follow soon after. Soon, everyone was off the Aquila including the dragon lady who bumped the novice's shoulder trailing down the boardwalk. She could care less for that woman's attitude now as she rubbed the sides of her head with the tips of her fingers. Her head still ached from the shell-shock, but that wasn't the only thing bothering her. The young woman worried of why her boss was suddenly being secretive with her—telling her to hide and follow his every word without explanation.

"Sipsy, babe!" Angie amongst some other women waited, greeting Connor as they came up the dirt path. "Hey, boss…" he muttered a greeting, but gave no eye contact, "Okay, then. Hey, Sipsy. What's up with your boyfriend?" She saw how tired her friend was; "And what the hell happened to you? You look like shit."

"Concussion. I'll just check with the doctor, but… Connor wants us to hide now. He-He said we're not safe. I think he may have heard something from the Templars."

"Girl, just check in with Juno. She might collect something from the Passage Logs."

"That requires concentration, Angie and my brain's a fucking pendulum right now."

"I'll take her to the doctor," Ellen offered, "It's the least I could do since you've helped a lot around my shop. Come now." She offered her shoulder and the novice kindly obliged. She was still stumbling with the evening's shade doing her no justice. Angie thanked the others for lending a hand to her friend as well before turning her attention to the Davenport manor. The Observers followed instructions from the First Civilization or from what's left of them. It wasn't exactly in the Brotherhood's say if they were safe or not. They can locate the Pieces of Eden—they would never be safe even in hiding. She sprinted up the road with a leap in her step, passing through the hunting grounds until she was in the manor's view. At this time, the old man would be sleeping and the maid would be out, so—she touched the knob and found that the door was open. Without much care, she entered in, looking out to see for her boss. Her first train of thoughts led her to the basement. Her fingers kept tapping at her satchel she had always carried around. There was something she needed to give him anyway.

"Boss?" she poked her head in, walking down the stairs of the basement until she saw him writing on the wall of the targets, "Boss, you…" _Then she saw it_. He had marked his father out with an "X" in silence. Upon closer inspection, Charles Lee's portrait remained untouched. It was made clear what had happened. She steadily took out what appeared to be a small booklet.

"So that's why you're being silent. You killed Haytham."

"Charles Lee got away. I cannot afford any more mistakes. If I allow you and Tsipporah to roam free under my command, then there is sure to be bloodshed."

"Boss, if we're never gonna be safe. Even if we could protect ourselves, someday we'll be breached by the enemy. Observers can't protect people and that why there are Assassins."

"You both have countered that fact simply by aiding me and divulging confidential information. You two have made many risks as well in spite of the consequences."

"Well…" she wiped her forehead, "That's because you're worth it… and Sipsy really loves you. Anyway, I… I didn't think you would take this course of action with your father, but remember the night where your village was in danger again? Well, your father passed by—"

"What did he want?" he finally looked into the blonde's face.

"He didn't want anything. Only obligated to give this," she held out a small booklet, "He said if anything happened to him that I should give you this. It's in his family tradition that the fathers of the Kenway line would pass these down to their children in order to know the truth."

"The truth?" he took the book into his hands.

"It's his journal. He wanted you to have it, but it would be best to read it once everything ends, huh? He even told old man Achilles that he's done a better job with you than he would have. Just wanted to let you know, but… Sipsy doesn't know about this, does she? I thought you'd tell her." He gripped the leather book in his hand, allowing the gratifying situation sink in that his father would give him something so personal of his. He should be somewhat grateful, but it is as the blonde claims; he should read it when the revolution has ended.

"Boss, why do you want us to hide _now_?"

_"Because Charles Lee is looking for the both of you right this moment." _

* * *

**Lee's gone and Haytham's dead. Now what's left of the Templars are out to get the Observers by force. Oh, dear... and Connor has Haytham's journal, finally. So now he can understand where his dad was coming from with turning into a Templar the way he did. I really want to get that book. R.I.P. Haytham "Sassy" Kenway :'(**

**Anyway, just one more day before the DLC comes out. Saw some cool previews and apparently Connor goes on a little drug trip to acquire his powers... sounds great so far. lol**

**One more chapter left. Better to not go out into open conflict right now, especially when the enemy's threat barely lowered. But... I know some readers are more concerned about whether the OC stays or not. You'll see! :D**


	30. Chapter 30: Departure I

_"Nothing is true. Everything is permitted."_

**Assassin's Creed**

* * *

_"Don't think I have any intention of caressing your cheek and saying I was wrong. I will not weep and wonder what might have been. I'm sure you understand. Still, I'm proud of you in a way. You've shown great conviction. Strength. Courage. All noble qualities… _I should have killed you long ago."

"(Goodbye, father.)"

….

The end of summer was upon them. The novice read the words on the wall one late night. Achilles was with her as he had slept for most of the day. However, now he found this night to keep him from doing so. They stood in the basement before the wall of their enemies—both slain and living. She recalled earlier of how her blonde companion was given a personal item of the Grand Master of the Templars—his journal—to be given to the young Assassin. He promised to have read it when all is settled, but it seems he may have given into his curiosity more. Upon the wall below the portrait of Haytham Kenway was a phrase. By the spelling, the novice could easily identify it as the Mohawk language. The old man pursed his lips, frustrated that the one significant thing on the wall was in a language completely foreign to him. Tsipporah would smile at his frustration, but saw the retired mentor grew weaker and weaker every day, and only now does he decide to roam the house freely.

"…" he sighed as he gazed upon the wall, "That boy always does this."

"Maybe he didn't want anyone to know what he was thinking," the novice blinked, "You know he keeps to himself sometimes."

"Well, let me be the first to say that you are full of shit." The novice turned her head dramatically slow towards the old man. Never in her time of staying with him has she ever heard him curse at her. Her jaw dropped and placed her hand across her chest. She was more amused than offended. "You heard me, girl. You know what that means. Tell me what it says and I won't tolerate you lying to me."

"It says…" she crossed her arms, feeling as if she's prying someone's privacy here, "It says… '_I made a mistake_'." She shut her eyes, feeling a bit guilty to be in her boss's business. Of course she knew what it meant at first sight, but to spew such things in translation like this was a bit violating. She, too, would write her own diary in Creole so that no prying would know of her secret sentiments. Achilles took a moment longer to gaze upon the wall, taking in its new contents. He gave another sigh.

"Take me upstairs."

"Yes, sir," the novice obliged, lowering herself so that he could lean on her for support up the basement stairs and the door was closed, the candelabra readjusted. They made their way to the office room where the ledger and many documents, and books were held. He was muttering beforehand on how he had something vital to write. He would never say, but he requested for the novice to specifically bring him to his writing room. Once he was seated, the young woman backed away, aware that he still had his cane near him. Whatever he was going write was something she was not meant to see until later.

"Promise me that the first person to read this would be Connor. Understand, Tsipporah?" he pointed the dabbed quill at her. She raised a brow in suspicion.

"What are you up to, Achilles? You haven't been giving me shit these past few months, you're acting a lot nicer—"

"Yes, well, I haven't given you the respect you deserved for some time ever since you arrived with that nuisance of an apprentice of mine."

"Wai—what?" was he going senile?

"Don't take it to heart too soon. I mean every word. The both of you together have proven yourselves to me. Connor has restored the Brotherhood and its purpose; you have fulfilled your role as the observer as much as you could. You have helped him on his path, sacrificed so much, yet he is the one that influences you to do so. You aid him and he, in turn, changed you for the better." The novice walked over to his side, careful that she kept her eyes on him to let him know that she daren't meddle to see what he was writing.

"I thought you hated the idea of us being together, Achilles."

"Listen, child," he kept writing, "I must tell you that I… I, too, was in love once, but it all ended too soon. It was during the slow fever; watched both my own wife and son die so young. I'd rather not have him suffer the same fate of solitude more painful than it has to be. His mother was the same as was her sister. Ah, but… whatever you choose—it will be up to you and no one else. You reckless people have used up my time in proving me wrong. Well, you've succeeded." Tsipporah blinked a tad bit too quickly in an attempt to hide the onslaught of tears. "It seems Connor has turned you into a woman in more ways than one."

"Oh, shut up, old man," she laughed as she choked, "What's that?" she eyed a small box of refined velvet. It was tagged of a royal insignia, but the old man took it away under his sleeve before she could decipher what royalty it may have come from. She had a vague idea, though.

"Should you stay a bit longer, you may find out. Anyway, you'd best go to sleep. He's probably waiting for you."

"No," she crossed her arms, "I appreciate him protecting me, but he expects us o be in the same room all the time. I have no idea what I'm doing…"

"Yet the both of you spent a night together," he smirked as his hat covered his eyes. The novice sneered. She was going to be very honest by that point.

"I was just in the moment, okay!" She threw her hands up, "Angie may find the whole screwing idea to be a grand ol' time, but that was way too intense to maintain." She pulled her hair back, "I'm serious. Your apprentice is big—in more ways than one, I don't think I can go back and do it again—"

"Alright, I didn't have to know all of that," he finished writing and signed his signature, "But consider that he would want you near him at all times now that the last of the Templars are after your head." She snapped up. She recalled Connor saying things like that before, but knew that she was in danger this whole time. It was foolish to think that he could hide her now. The novice shrugged her shoulders.

"I have to respect his command and hide, huh?"

"Yes. You vowed to, remember? Follow him wherever he goes—it is the law for observers. Take care of him if you can; as much as you can."

"I will, Achilles," she walked around the desk and wrapped her arms around him, "I just hope… I don't know if I can stay…" The old man placed his quill back into the inkpot and sat awkwardly. Mechanically, he carefully requited the physical contact, patting her back.

"Whether you stay or not. I wish for you to know that the both of you have raised my spirits at last. I wish you all the happiness you can acquire, starting with this land."

"Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope," she sputtered, "Starting with… did you just chuckle? It's the end of the world, isn't it? I don't want to live on this planet anymore. I am done." She comically went to the doorway, "I am so done. G'night, gramps. I'm living on the moon from now on. Don't call me; don't kill me; and for God's sake, don't hit me with that cane if you respect me so much."

* * *

And that was the last conversation she ever had with the old man for the next day, she and Connor found him unmoved from the writing room. He sat just where he was late last night. The novice bit the side of her cheek, thinking that he slept where he sat and helped the young native wake him… but he did not wake. It then occurred to her that his skin was cold. His pulse was gone. Achilles passed. She fell upon the man's arm and let her tears flow, wishing she could have said something more meaningful had she knew this would happen. Connor took it in silently, but a series of emotions wavered in his eyes. Once the novice moved from his mentor's body, he noticed a roll of paper in his hands, so he took it carefully and read it. Looking back to the novice, the assassin grabbed her shoulder, willing her to get up.

"I shall prepare for his funeral. I will go to the priest and let the others know of his passing. Will you help me ready his grave?" Her head stayed on the dead man's arm, nodding to Connor's words. She continued to sob audibly. He walked towards the door, but turned to her crying and wondered. With the old man, they both visibly hated each other. In concern of the young assassin, they would go at each other's throats. Now that the old man has passed, she wept over him as if she's been with him since birth. The emptiness started to sink in for Connor as well. This painfully reminded him of how he had lost his mother. The realization she would never be there to wake him up every morning, to call his name, or to give him wisdom and the eminent love a mother would give to her child haunted him every day of his life from then on. Such is same for his fallen comrades. He continued on to the church.

Before the hour of the day was finished, the grave was ready and everyone gather to pay their respects to the old man on the hill. He wasn't a church-going man nor was he involved in any religion, but he still tended to the sheep as a shepherd would in homestead once Connor stepped in. Everyone gathered—the hunters, the farmers, the sailors—all of them. They each held a rose in their hand as a token of thanks to the old man for being in their lives. The priest said his word for Achilles, knowing that he had found peace with the whole community for he died in his sleep, peacefully and with dignity. It gave some sort of peace of mind that he passed without pain, the observers stood to muse as they, too, dropped their roses in. However, their roses were different. Tsipporah had hers painted in a modern Pollock design of splatter while Emily had hers in a red to yellow gradient. Connor dropped a single eagle feather upon the man's grave before it time to close the service.

Everyone gradually backed away to return to their homes and keep a special thought of Achilles as they went. The observers and the assassin remained. To herself, the novice whispered her hymns rather than pray for it was never her thing in the first place. It was better said in song than in words alone.

"There was something else on his desk that he wanted you to have, Connor. Or both of us. I dunno," she was still stopping her tears, "I know it's from a royal family. That's all I know." She wiped her eyes and her blonde companion handed her a clean handkerchief. "Again… again, I didn't say goodbye properly…" she continued to sob until she sensed someone come up the dirt path from direction of the entrance of homestead. Connor felt it, too, for it was in the scent of blood. This was a time of mourning and already trouble made its way to their home. He expected it to be a gang of bandits, but it wasn't. Men on horses and those walking held guns—mercenaries. What made matters worse was the man who lead them. The observers paled to see who it was while Connor tensed with unstable temper.

"So the great Achilles Davenport—shamed Assassin of the colonies finally sleeps for all eternity. Marvelous," he taunted, "That's one assassin out of the way."

"Charles Lee…" Connor quickly came in front of the girls, but Angie took him by the shoulder to still his temper.

"Get off of this property, Charles. We'll take our business elsewhere."

"Oh, really?" he grinned wickedly, "You think me a fool? You know what I came here for—you two." The henchmen jogged in with muskets in hand, circling around the three. "Now, you will drop your weapons and hand over those women quietly, Connor."

"No," was his immediate answer. This only angered the Templar.

"Alright. I suppose you care not for the people who reside on this property, do you not? Of course that observer is dearer to you than lives of many." As he said this, his men spread out to scatter, ready to ransack and pillage on Lee's command. The observers felt a tinge of panic under their skins. They didn't want the others to get involved. The assassin remained unmoved until there was a shot sounded and then one of the henchmen screamed in pain. The women jumped, turning to where the shot came from.

"Not today, boys!" Myriam readied her musket for another blow. Connor called for her to get out of the way, but as she was slightly distracted, she took a musket-ball to her leg. Though injured, she kept her ground, taking the opportunity to blow some headshots. Lee had no patience for this whole "hero" act and pulled out his pistol to shoot down the huntress. Promptly, the assassin ran up and charged into Lee, knocking him off of his high horse and into the damp grass, causing him to miss the shot. The musket-ball whipped through the novice's ruffle of hair, breaking some thick locks.

"Connor!" she yelled out and cracked her fists, ready to fight off some men. She kneed one in the jaw and turned on her heel to head-butt another. And as soon as another one came at her, she morphed to avoid total fatality, diving back in his face to dig her talons into his throat. She threw herself to the next until she saw her boss fending off Charles Lee, but something dawned on her. They were home. They were mourning. They can't… not now… Angie brushed her shoulder in understanding. They shouldn't do this; not here. There were many mercenaries. They cannot bring this fight upon homestead.

"[Connor, stop it!]" she whined, stopping him just in time before he would bury his tomahawk in his enemy's chest. He still had him down and defenseless that the other men daren't approach him. Her screeching carried so much that the men had stopped as well. "[We are home, Connor. We can't do this while they are mourning. And there's too many.]" She hopped to the opposing sides, "[Not today, Connor. Someone might die. Myriam can't get involved… no one else, too. Please?]"

The young assassin gripped the perilous weapon in his hand, letting his victim know that he wasn't going to let him go so easily.

"He's come to take you away. Both of you away. I will not allow it or anyone to die… but not like this." He shoved the raven-haired Templar aside, free from his grasp. "Take your men and leave this place. If you do not leave quickly, then I will reconsider letting you live for now."

"Not without those girls…" he snickered as he spotted one of his henchmen sneaking behind the novice. Upon contact, she screeched loudly, flapping her wings wildly as she was forced into a steel-cage. The woman with red hair holding her captive cackled in satisfaction, brushing her curls behind her ear.

**"Tsipporah!"**

"[Augh! …Connor! Ergh! Let me go!]"

"Now, either the other comes quietly or I shall enjoy watching all of your people die." Angie sternly approached, not wanting to take any chances. Connor wanted to call her back, persuade her not to leave.

"Boss, just go back to mourning. We'll be back in a little while—" Charles took her roughly by the arm and pressed a strange necklace against her exposed skin. Whatever it was disoriented her for she immediately fell unconscious. The novice ceased her frantic tantrum as her friend was dragged away by mercenaries out of the homestead area. She, too, was place on the back of Lee's horse, watching Connor get further and further away. He would not move for the men kept their word and did not attack the residents. Still, she whispered not to come after them. Not now. The anger was evident in his eyes as he watched his beloved leave in the arms of a madman. It made his blood boil, motivating him to end Charles Lee's life even more.

"Connor," Myriam called, "Aren't you going to get them."

"To retrieve them now would not be so wise, Myriam. Lee would have destroyed this place with the amount of men he had. I could not risk it and neither would she. I will find them."

"Well… I just thought you would save them right then and there. Fillan would've thrown a fit, too," she gripped her bleeding limbs; "You got a plan, right?"

He didn't respond. Only picked up his wounded companion in his arms, carrying her back to her home where her husband stood guard along with some neighbors with a weapon in hand.

"Connor, are you alright?" Norris asked.

"He's fine, Norris. Some Templar took the girls."

"What?!" he threw a fit, "The girls? No way, how could this—"

"They traded their safety for yours," Connor simply said, "Take Myriam to Dr. White." The other residents looked at each other before coming to the assassin's side.

"Is there anything we could to help?" Godfrey butted in and Terry begged to know as well. Myriam stubbornly asked, too. Connor bowed his head and gave a sad smile to himself. The people of homestead would never abandon their own, but the matters of the Brotherhood were of a different matter. The Observers were on a completely different level. The Templars wouldn't dispose of the Eyes of the First Civilization so easily. He knew this is where the old man's test of restraint and patience comes in. He wanted nothing more but to sever Lee's head from his shoulders. He would have to save his anguish and loathing for when he sees him again. He would free the observers—his friend and his beloved.

* * *

The novice couldn't open the cage she was in as the ride led her and her friend into the fort that she helped destroy with the crew on the Aquila. The horse abruptly stopped at the entrance. Tsipporah heard the shocked gasps of the raven-haired Templar as he had the horse slowly trot inside. The courtyard was a mess, nearly buried under debris and the mercenaries already there were moving the masses of rocks that blew from the fort's walls. The eagle snickered in a mild screech at the damage she and the men caused just months ago, but was surprised to see that Charles was aghast at the sight. She turned her head to see her blonde companion still unconscious. It made her wonder just what the man did to knock her out. Suddenly, she felt the cage shake around, which caused her to hit against the bars. Within seconds, she was facing an icy glare.

"What have you Assassins done? You've destroyed everything!"

She answered with an innocent shrug that birthed a vein at his temple. He held the cage by the top handle without care, dashing through the base as if he was looking for something important. This was his base of operations; of course there would be something important here. There was another part of the fort he ventured to and was finally calling out names.

"Mr. Kenway!" he hollered, "Sir, are you here?!"

The novice cringed, digging her beak into the pit of her wing. Lee rushed around the yard until he was fed up with his inabilities to locate certain persons. Shaking the cage more violently, he gazed at the novice.

"Where is he? Where is he, you white-haired demon?" every word spat a seething hatred that only grew with desperation. He forced the steel cage open, and took the novice by the throat with the other. She struggled to get out of his hold until he tossed her to the wall carelessly. She avoided a terrible impact, using her wings to dive instead, morphing back into a human form. Just when she was getting to her feet, Lee moved in on her, picking her up roughly and slamming her back against the wall with an arm on her on her throat. "I ask again, girl, locate him. Or I shall kill you and your friend; _right now_."

She made an unwilling face, proving to him that she wasn't afraid of him. She tested his patience. There was another worry, though. If she dies, then Connor dies. She couldn't risk it. The novice was released from his grasp with a pistol at her back. Most likely, the Grand Master's body was still somewhere in the fort, so she closed her eyes and allowed her seventh sense to take hold. Within minutes, she found a Gold Target fading. She knew what it was.

"He's out in the courtyard, buried under some debris."

The Templar followed what the observer said, but still held her at gunpoint for he didn't trust her one bit. She nodded her head to the rubble before them. Lee ordered for the men to dig up whatever was in there. It should be the Grand Master Haytham. They carefully dug through the dusty pile. The more they got out of the way, the more sweat seeped out onto the man's chin. Finally, all was removed. _Haytham. It was Haytham_.

Lee fell to his knees as he saw his superior cold in the dirt with dried blood was spilt across his face from a deep wound in his neck. His face was serene in the acceptance of his fate. Only Connor and the observers knew why for they took a peek at the man's journal when the young assassin wasn't looking. Tears did not brace Lee; fury did. The novice sensed that the Passage Field was set by the same power as hers. Yes. A part of her in Connor caused this, so now—as long as something of her DNA was in his system—he would be able to do this for a while longer. For now she would back away, knowing full well that he was going to attempt wild-haymaker. The Templar rose from his place with a new hate in his eyes.

"Hold her!" Mercenaries took her arms, putting her in a full nelson, "You and that damned Assassin has killed your last target."

"Let me be the first then to say that we killed your dog, too." Lee sucked his teeth… and threw a punch, nearly breaking her jaw and loosening a tooth. She spat it out to the side, raising her head after in a taunt. He picked under his collar, holding a strange pendant—a pendant that she easily recognized. Her eyes became two sizes bigger. "T-That's the amulet!"

"Yes," he spiked, "And I know your peers tell you what this does to observers if not for the Precursor site. Thanks to Mr. Kenway, I have discovered another use for this." The men held her up straight, but now the novice had something else to worry about. Just what exactly does this amulet do to observers anyway? Juno didn't tell her a thing! All she said was that Connor was to retrieve it. She struggled to get free, but it was too late. Charles pressed the pendant against her neck with an uncomfortable pressure. Soon, a channeling of marks that matched that of the amulet crept onto her skin and she saw flashes of black in her vision. In the men's view, they were uncertain of what was happening to her, but her hair began to spark for a few seconds before turning to black. Her pupils dilated and threw her head back in agony. Once Charles was done, he brought the amulet back under his collar, pleased with his work. "Now you can do no harm to anyone else. Should you decide to side with the Templars, you shall find yourself alive and in possession of your abilities of the Eyes of the First Civilization."

The novice felt drained, but after hearing the man's words, she got a little spooked. "Wha—what? What… what did you do to me? And what have you done with Angie?"

"You both will be getting what you deserve. I know full well that the Assassin will be coming for you. After all, you are his woman."

"Much like you suck Haytham's dick every now and then—"he backhanded her so hard that her head snapped to the side in a whiplash. "Connor… is going to kill… you…"

"If your stubbornness continues, then I will have no choice but to kill you myself as he arrives for your rescue. You will be excellent leverage. He will be completely alone before I let him die." The novice looked up to him. This man was once filled with principle. Now he was brimming with hate and vengeance. "I shall have his homestead destroyed—the people slaughtered. His recruits all murdered, his village burned to the ground along with its pathetic inhabitants. The Sons of Liberty shall feel my wrath and be reduced to nothing." He took her by the chin. "And you…"

"Ugh…" she flinched under his grip.

"You will be the last to die before him. You shall watch your friend die and then you shall die before lover. He would cry all he can… but you'd be dead as a doornail!" And he laughed a sinister, wicked laugh. A laugh filled with corruption. She was helpless now… _she was helpless now_? It didn't register so well at first, but she was. Her muscles were cramped and twisted. Her powers were rendered useless. It began to sink in as a reality when a lock of her hair came in front of her eye. _Black_. She hasn't seen that color in a while. Her own hair… _she really was without power_. "Put her in the prison cell by her comrade. I'll let them enjoy their last few moments together. Do not feed them. They've not the privilege. After all, they are the enemy."

….

This had to be done carefully lest he'd lose another person precious to him—others on the battlefield, others where they did not suffer from agony, but rested in peace. He tried not to give into the fear of something terrible happening to those girls. However, he did not anticipate this. After a few days of calming his nerves, something radical had occurred. He sat in the basement thinking over how he was going to approach Charles when a series of pain shot up through his body and then… nothing. He felt a slight disconnection as if a link between two persons has been broken. No. What was going on? Something must have happened to them and he was too far away to do anything.

It took a lot of power not to panic. He knew those two. They were tougher than they seemed; even without their powers, they were still strong. Nothing could break them. Tsipporah willingly took punishment for being with him, thus being treated to torture until they left Bridewell. He would not underestimate her. He gathered his wits and looked about the fort again in his musings. No, they wouldn't return to a ruined base. They would hide somewhere else.

"Boss-man?" Fillan interrupted, "My guess is that Charles may decide to leave the country or move to different region. The Aquila has broken through many of the British controlled waters along the coast and you ruled over many forts already. I don't think they'll take a chance for enemy territory."

"You are right," Connor pushed the model of the fort aside. But then he took a second look, feeling upon the architecture of it. Tsipporah helped build these walls to ease navigation. She didn't argue or complain; she just built it knowing how determined he was to be rid of Lee. His notions may have seemed childish to her, but she would follow him. He smiled to himself, wondering how she could claim him to be a bother and still follow him obediently. She would say outwardly of why he took an interest in her as well. She was vulgar, tomboyish, difficult to communicate with, and intimacy was an issue. Fillan could see the look of nostalgia on his boss's face. He really wanted his woman back.

"We'll get 'em back boss. And I'll make my sister pay. The other recruits are keeping their eyes open. Makin' sure that everything'll go well. We'll find a window."

"Thank you, my friend." He nodded for him to make his leave. The Robber took up his satchel and left up the stairs while the assassin stayed in place. It's been like this every day with his recruits ever since the girls' disappearance. One by one, they would come by (including the neighbors) with concerns or ideas. This was getting just as drastic as the time when they planned to have Connor escape the gallows and kill Hickey. There can't be any mistakes here. He had to save them. This had to be done right.

"Connor?" the maid entered, "Supper's ready. I don't think your gal would like it if you started skipping meals. She'd eat like a horse when she's upset, y'know." He remembered. When she would hide, their food packages would disappear in less than two days.

"I will be in the dining room in a moment, then."

* * *

"Angie… you still alive, stupid whore?" Tsipporah tried to keep her optimism out on her friend. They weren't sure how long they've been in captivity. They were in cells across from each other. Physical contact was a challenge. They could at least see each other's face and body. The novice wished she couldn't, though. Her blonde friend was in a malnourished condition as much as herself. She struggled to get to the bars.

"Are you kidding me, bitch?" she chuckled with a raspy throat, "I'm surprised I'm still alive. I haven't had sex in forever. How're you doing over there?"

"…" she tried not to cry, "I feel like a baby right now. I feel so vulnerable…"

"_No_. You're not vulnerable. Don't you dare say that! The Assassins will come for us. I know it."

"…" she coughed, "I feel like we've been here forever. He doesn't even feed us. Might be a whole six months already because I was cold for a while… _after a while_." The novice didn't want any depressing spectacles keeping them. She had to think up some comical, optimistic subjects as if nothing has changed—as if they still had the upper hand despite having their powers sealed and their bodies weakened. She banged on the bars once more. "You know what… what I found out from Haytham's journal?"

"You—why are you reading the man's shit for? That was for Connor to read!"

"Shut up. I only read up to the bookmark he put in. Fun fact, babe—tree-hugger's not a Scorpio."

"You're really thinking about that now?"

"Yes! Because you said we're not compatible. That's not true. I read from the time he met Ziio and when she left him. He was born in April, so he's an Aries!"

"Oh…" Angie couldn't find anything else to say. The leisure talk has been keeping her up and distracted her from the intense hunger. It made her smile that her comrade was trying to keep in high spirits. "Both are fire. Both are adventurous… and both of you are a part of Artemis," she smiled at last. It did her good to know that they were true to be together. "That's funny."

"Why?" the novice started to feel weak all over again.

"Because when the Sagittarian woman gets too comfortable around the Aries man, his mannerisms rubs off on her," the novice frowned at her friend's words, "Not to mention, you do wear some of his stuff—"

"Pfft."

"You wear feathers in your hair—since the Christmas of '73! And you roll around in his jacket when he's not wearing it!"

"Okay, listen here, bitch. I—"

The dim room was suddenly spilled with light from outdoors after the wooden door at the end of the hall was opened. Men came, armed with guns as they went to the girls' cells. They backed away from the iron-barred doors that held them from freedom when they were unlocked to avoid obvious suspicion. It wasn't the time to think of escaping or plotting one. They wanted Charles Lee near as well as the amulet. The downside was having wait for an opening. Their weapons were confiscated; their bodies malnourished. It was impossible to fight back someone who had sealed their powers and physical strength. The henchmen dragged them out of their cells, shoving them roughly until they were out on the courtyard. The sunlight blinded their eyes and waited for them to settle. The novice wanted to roll on the ground and kiss the floor, but knew she would be shot for any sudden movement. It was tempting, though. As they were forced to move along, the novice felt her vision blur more than usual. Such a feeling didn't worry her since they've been without food for some time, so there was no surprise. The mercenaries forced them to stop in place. From there, a coffin laid before them as well as a familiar face they'd wish to smite.

"Ladies," Charles nodded. Both women wanted to collect distasteful saliva in their mouths and spit on his boot, but their throats were too dry. He dressed especially grand this day, however, and speculated the reason behind it. "There had to be some planning done beforehand, but I believe everything will fall into order soon enough. These women are to be taken to this exact location," he handed one of the head mercenaries a map; "I will have some men accompany me to the Grand Master's funeral. I shall honor his service as my superior."

"Where are you taking us?" Angie snarled. Lee only chuckled.

"Why… to a funeral of your own."

Both women paled at the mention. Wait… to what again? He only laughed harder, "Oh do not worry. I will not kill you both in an instance. No. I shall kill your little porcelain doll first before you, Eyes. I shall kill you a bit later after you and the Assassin suffer. Then I shall kill you before his very eyes. And then I will allow him to die." The novice pursed her chapped lips as she was pushed towards the entrance, her eyes pleading to her comrade if she had some kind of plan that would work right about now. But how would it be executed? Their hands were bound behind their backs and they were unarmed. Pure recklessness would be their only option.

As they were forced outside of the fort under construction, two carriages were waiting at the front. The men forced the two to go to each separate one. The people walking the streets didn't care much as to what was going on. To the naked eye, it seemed to be criminals being escorted. The blonde kept a quick glance over the majority, disguising it as struggle. There had to be some familiar faces out there, so she stalled the mercenary that held her, kicking dirt and yelping for attention. The novice stopped in mid-stride.

"Whoa, babe! Stop!" she yelled the best she could. They were vulnerable; they couldn't risk getting shot right now. "Don't fight it, _please_!"

People stopped and stared at the scene until one of the mercenaries struck the blonde with the butt of a musket. Once she died down her noise-making, the crowds moved on, but some stood still for a moment longer with the shade hiding their faces before taking off to nowhere. Angie gave a winning smile before losing consciousness. The novice was pretty sure that her friend did this to find the assassins. They would work fast, she hoped. Then there was a sudden strike to her head that got her down on her knees.

"_Ugh_!" she spat blood.

"Get'in, you damned nigra!" if she had any strength in her arms right now, she'd break the faces of these men. All these months, she's received insults and wolf whistles to her friend. She was roughly shoved into the carriage, landing sideways. Lee came in after with a henchman beside him. The carriage immediately moved as the door closed. He looked down on her as if he's won. As if she was his prize. But he won't be smiling for long. Soon…

"I've yet to understand you, Eyes. You seem to have an attraction to the Brotherhood. Why? Is it the younger generation that you find appealing? Was it the promise of peace? Or did that wretched assassin promise you a warm bed at night—"she spat at his face. _Finally_. She regretted nothing. Even if she did join by no other means of free will, this old man had no right to say things like that. She sat up and put her foot firmly against his chest.

"You misjudge old man. I joined by other means. I was promised nothing and I promised nothing. I only took vows. I was brought here without anyone asking how I felt about it! The only person who cared about my allegiance was him—and for me to go home in one peace without anything changing. '_A warm bed at night_'? He is a fearless leader, the bravest man, and the greatest human being I have ever met in my entire life—and made me realize who I am. And that was all done on the battlefield, not with perverse tactics you had in mind. He respects everyone, even his enemies because at the end of the day they are all human beings who are free to choose. **_So do not…"_** she pressed harder, wishing to fracture something of his, "Do not speak so low of him when he values your life more than status or money, you uncaring-undeserving-ball-scratching-shit-faced-asshole!"

And then her ankle was clubbed with the hardened handle of his pistol by the mercenary next to him and she screamed out in pain. Charles only laughed at her agony as she was unable to caress her now injured joint. "Say what you will, but you will die. And he will watch you die. Ah, but you are giving me other ways that this can happen—how you should die."

"You're sick!"

"And I suppose that justifies your meddling in this war—in our affairs," the carriage stopped before a cemetery and Lee rose from his seat and stepped outside, "All of it will come to an end. **Today.** I swear on the Grand Master Kenway's grave that it will."

And then he left as the other men had Kenway's grave ready with his coffin being laid into the ground six feet under. Many people were there, surprisingly: colonists, soldiers, etc. The carriage door was slammed at her face and the mercenary near her cackled at her face as the door's impact gave her a bump on the side of her head. She sputtered profanity that he couldn't hear, looking out the window hopelessly. A minute later, she heard the carriage that came before gallop away; knowing it to be containing her comrade. The gravity of desperation sank into her gut and she tried her tears to not fall. The novice leaned her head on the window as Lee spoke words of acknowledgement to his deceased superior. Her lids were half-closed, her eyes glazed, her teeth gritted—she wanted to bang her head on something solid and die already. All she could hear clearly was the henchmen near her chuckling at her expense, claiming her to look so pathetic. She didn't care at this point. Not anymore. It was better to rot in the prison cell in ignorance than know the fate of her friends. She couldn't bear to see their smiles burn and suffer. The old man's grave desecrated, the Brotherhood shamed, Juno jumping off the walls.

The First Civilization…The Brotherhood… The Assassins…

_Connor_…

**Connor!**

People backed away and murmured at the tall figure that made his way to the last Templar boldly. Mercenaries quickly gathered in the area to block him off, but they were easily taken down with just single strikes of his tomahawk, two more with his hidden blade for good measure. The novice sat up as her eyes flickered with a light that the sun could not match or the stars could compare. The henchmen inside with her trembled with fear, pulling her back hastily to avoid the eyes of that notorious killer. She lost her patience, head-butting him hard enough to knock him unconscious. The impact nearly knocked her out as well for she hasn't practiced her durability while she was constantly watched in the prison. She sat back up, seeing her beloved held down, facing Lee. The old Templar taunted him with the amulet in his hand, threatening him no doubt of how he was going to bring everything he loved to ruin as revenge. She scoffed, trying to get to the floor of the carriage to twist her arms over her head. She hasn't done this in a while and was afraid to, but… it had to be done.

She gritted her teeth as she sat almost on her tailbone, lifting her legs into the air. Her arms had gotten past her hips… rear… stretching them much farther was a bit of a chore. Her muscles had gotten tense over the past several months and she started to feel her shoulders cramps immensely, but she didn't care. Rolling onto her back, she carefully continued the forward motion of her arms, getting her bound hands past the back of her thighs, behind her knees… "Ugh… just a little more…" she grunted as they reached close to her ankles.

Then there was knocking against the side of the carriage that nearly broke her concentration. It only motivated her to escape faster. Yes. She finally had her hands in front of her again. She sat up, peeking through the window to see what was happening. Lee was gone, it seemed. She croaked a loud chuckle, but was thrown back as the carriage rocked. She backed away, ready to kick the door open. That, too, backfired when the body of a mercenary was slammed through the window, instantly shattering the glass. Blood splattered everywhere, whipping across her brow. She mumbled about how angry he must have been these past months. Angie was right.

* * *

The people attending Haytham's funeral long departed after Connor's arrival. Once Lee was n his sights, he was not going to let him go. It had to end today and the observers back at his side. His recruits reported seeing to questionable carriage of black carrying two women. It was confirmed to be the observers, Fillan added—he knew Angie's golden hair and vulgar laughter anywhere. After that, he didn't focus on anything else. Lee's men had him down, or so it seemed.

"He sent me away… that day at Fort George," he growled, "He feared for my safety. I should have stayed. He said there was no danger."

"He was wrong."

Charles Lee hated that face—that face that taunted his achievements and would plot to destroy the very core of the Order. Now he knew exactly where the novice got her stubbornness from. Her words were true for he has dealt with this attitude for months of her imprisonment. She would act unafraid, unwilling… unwavering. This Assassin caused this. Their failures, their faults… but it would have to end.

"I will kill you Connor; this I swear. Not here, though. Not today. No…" he took a look at the novice's carriage before turning his attention back at the assassin, "First—first, I'll destroy all that you hold dear. I'll burn that homestead of yours to the ground—and roast the severed heads of your precious _Founding Fathers_ in its flames. And then when I've finished with them, all the rest will burn as well. Your merry band of Assassins. The human refuse that lives on your land. Your village and its people. And your woman… all of it—_gone_!"

"You can try, Charles," he smiled apathetically, "But as all of your schemes, this, too, will end in failure." _That was the final straw_…

"Get him on his feet!" the henchmen obeyed. Lee promised that he will suffer before he dies; to watch everything precious to him come to ruin. As soon as he was done with his threats, an eerily sounding giggle sounded from the carriage near them. Lee cursed to himself and backed away, ordering for the men to deal with him as he took his leave. Once Charles was out of sight, the men had Connor up against the carriage in an abrupt slam and the assassin heard something within it tumble backwards, or so it sounded. He looked back at the men, taking this opportunity to topple them. One by one, he suplexed and snapped necks. The last one that recklessly charged at him was quickly thrown over his shoulder and slammed into the window of the carriage. It was then that he heard a frustrated yelp. He looked over his shoulder, curious of the noise.

Subsequently, tied down hands reaching out of the window until the figure pulled them out, falling onto the ground, scraping their knees; she may have appeared different, but it was her. Her limbs were in a constant spasm as she moved and her cheek bones sharpened her face out of lack of nourishment.

"Tsipporah…" he whispered on his lips as if he was seeing a ghost. She struggled with the ropes gripping her wrists until she heard her name on the tongue of a familiar voice. She slowly turned her head up, her heart beating fast, but could not show it so well as usual. She was happy with this moment; so was he… yet…

"Connor…" she coughed, "Angie's in trouble again. Lee's going to kill her. He'll kill me, too if I'm not careful. You have to stop him. I can help you." He brandished his knife, cutting her free before giving a skeptical look.

"The other recruits are here. They will take you back to homestead safely."

"What? No! I am your observer! I should go with you—"he raised his palm.

"There is no time to argue on this matter. Lee has stripped you of your powers, which in turn rescinded the effects of the curse." She blanked for a second, looking into his face. Indeed, what Lee did also lifted the curse. She should be happy, but it only made her worry more. No. She made up her mind. It didn't matter how weak she was.

"No. I'm not going anywhere but with you. You can't change my mind, Connor. You're not the only one trying to stop the Templars. You kill him, get the pendant back, and I'll open the Passage Field."

"You've any idea where Lee has gone then?"

"Negative, sir. Only that he's threatened me and Angie with the promise of death."

He saw in her eyes, despite being weary and injured, she still wanted to fight, but she could only do so much in the state that she was in. Nothing can convince her otherwise. He basically had no choice. He sighed and noticed the door of the carriage opening with a mercenary plopping weakly out of it. Connor went to his side in a flash, grabbing the man by the collar, interrogating him of where Lee may have gone. News was that he was catching a ferry. Once he got the answers he wanted, he snapped the man's neck and turned his attention back to the novice.

"You are determined to see this through?"

"I have to. And it's not because it's my job anymore." He bowed his head for a moment and waved his hand over to signal something. The novice was a little lost as to whatever that meant, so she turned to see if there was a recruit nearby. Before she could confirm her suspicions, a precise blow was made to the back of her neck. Her vision began to fade into black rapidly and fell into her hooded companion's arms. The Robber sniffed, not feeling the least bit sorry. Angie's friend was pretty stubborn.

"Forgive me," he softly said as he held her, "I said I would hide you. I shall finish this today. Soon you will be home in the future where you belong."

"Y… you asshole, tree-hugger… I lo-loved…" her head lay across his chest and her eyes closed with her brows pinched together with stress. He wanted more time to perhaps reassure her that everything was going to be okay—that she could help him, but he could not risk it. Not anymore, but not for now. And perhaps never again.

"Fillan, make sure she is taken back to homestead and stays there."

"Yes, sir."

….

Angie awoke with more pain than she's ever felt the last several months. These weren't the pains of starvation and lack of sleep; this was different. More like the premonition. She tried to move her body, but it was no use. Her entire bodice was tied up to a post as she was in a sitting position. She raised her head the best she could until she felt something thick poke her head up straight, looking forward. When her vision adjusted, she saw a face she wished was history by now.

"Gillan…" she spat, "What do you want? You had your fun. The Templars are losing… the Order is finished… give up already."

"No," she grinned, "I don't think so. Knowing our little Papa Wolf Connor and his little hooker of a friend, they'll come looking for you. They have to. My little brother would be, too. Just you wait, sweetheart. Soon, this revolution will be over and Lee will take place in the Congress as Commander in Chief."

"Why do you care?" she struggled, "All you do is hurt others to get what you want! Would you really have humanity ruled over by a bunch of tyrants to get what you want, Gillan?"

"I never get what I want by playing fair!" she retorted, "I do not regret my choices. I did it for me and my brother to survive and he chose the streets, the Brotherhood—you. An over decorated cake like you shouldn't even be near him. Now I know I'm not the best sister, but I'll be damned if you ever get to him again, I will burn you at the stake like the witch you are." Angie wrinkled her face. She was sure what she felt towards Fillan and barely regretted it. The red-headed seductress saw this to her displeasure. "Well…" she readied a pistol in her hand and walked towards a large pile of red-marked barrels, "Looks like there can't be two important, influential women in his life now can it?"

_Then she took aim_…

* * *

**Yeah, there has to be a part 2. :P**

**I thought I could compile the end, but I guess not. Almost done with the second part, which is still Chapter 30. Then we shall have our conclusion! ;D**

**Second part is coming in some hours...**


	31. Chapter 31: Departure II

_"Amidst the worldly comings and goings, observe how endings become beginnings."_

**Laozi (Lao Tzu)**

* * *

Everything was a blur again. There were voices all around carrying the air of worry. This aroma was that of Lexington after get marched on by the redcoats; when Bunker Hill was being bashed in by cannons. The terrible battles thought to be glorious in elementary were just now nightmares in the reality of adulthood. The novice opened her eyes feeling less discomforted in her own body. She felt more tended to. Looking down to inspect herself, her wounds were dressed and she wore different attire this time around. It appeared more native than the last one she wore. Bringing herself to a sitting position, she found herself on a soft, cushioned surface. _Wait_… She looked around and saw that she was in her room again in the manor. The vanity table, the canopy curtains of the bed, the art materials underneath… Panic rose in her chest. She hadn't forgotten what was taking place before she was unexpectedly knocked out. It made the vein in her neck dance fiercely with resentment. She told the Assassin clearly that she would go with him.

Tsipporah scrambled out of bed, ignoring the sting of her wrapped wounds as she opened her door. She had a slight heart-attack seeing who was behind it. She hasn't seen this face for some time and nearly forgotten who it was. The native woman turned her head menacingly, her eyes demanding that the novice would stay in her room as long as possible. The young woman gulped.

"Alsoomse," she firmly asked, "I have to go. I'm an observer, you can't keep me here—"

"By order of Ratonhnhaké ton, you cannot leave this manor until he comes back." She crossed her arms, keeping her eyes alert. The novice frowned.

"Angie is in trouble. I can't just leave my best friend, man."

"I see. So you doubt your leader. You are barely in the sufficient state to be walking about. What kind of comrade believes for every warrior to be in need of assistance all the time, hmm?"

"It's not that. It's not like that. There's a difference between having doubts in someone's skills and wanting to make sure they're okay, Alsoomse. He's fighting against Charles Lee. I hate it when my friends are alone and as much as this is his job, it's mine to expect the worst outcome." Her eyes glazed with obvious concern that the native woman saw. She pursed her lips before giving a sassy smile.

"Of course, there's the exception that you're his woman and you fear for his safety…"

"Go fuck yourself."

"But he—himself—asked to keep you safe until he returns."

"Since when does the _Independent_ take orders from men?"

"…" she sneered, "The doctor took a look at you—said you had to eat something fattening. The people here got straight to work cooking, getting fresh drinks. They must really love you." As thankful as she felt that everyone was concerned for her safety, she worried for Angie's and dominantly Connor's.

"Did they come by with any food, though?"

"Yeah. All of it is on the kitchen counter. Would you like me to call for the maid." The novice made her way past the native woman as she smelled the food below. She carefully made her way down, aware that her muscles had yet to have a good stretch. In the kitchen, there was an abundance of harvested food, different bottled drinks, and meats all organized. Alsoomse brushed her shoulder, eying her closely. "Will you feast now or later? You must be very hungry after being imprisoned and deprived of any food."

The novice took large turkey legs and gorged herself. She didn't want to work too fast into the meal lest her stomach would reject any incoming food, but she only wanted to eat as much as she could. At the corner of her eye, the native woman kept staring at her as she was expecting her to be keeling over any time soon and she would be ready. The novice only shrugged and continued to stuff herself. The silence that enveloped the room, save for the woman's loud chewing was cut by the knocking of the front door. The recruit turned away from the novice for a moment since the maid seemed occupied with something else. Tsipporah watched as the she left the room… spitting out the bones of her food. After wiping her mouth, her eyes sharpened, looking out and watching the back door. In one sprint, she sped down the opposite direction, knocking through the back door.

"Tsipporah!" she heard voices call after her. She didn't stop. She ran for the stables to fetch a horse. Luckily, she caught Archer ready for a run for he looked eager to do so. Cracking her fists, she broke the lock of the stable door, having no time to undo it before the recruit or some neighbors would stop her. It broke her now delicate skin doing so, but didn't care. She coaxed her horse to come about and it slowly followed her out. The voices of others were starting to close in, so she scrambled to get onto the saddle and reigns.

"Ride, Archer!" she called out with a strong voice, "To docks of Boston!"

The recruit was too late to catch up for the novice already sped off in a dash. It then occurred to her of what the young woman said, so she checked her sides, patting them down. She shrugged while Godfrey and Terry raised their brows.

"She took the secret correspondence I stole from Lee's men," she face-palmed.

….

Evening draped over the Boston harbor. Men swarmed the docking area, blocking off any intervening civilian passing by or trying to pass through. The last Templar left in the colonies whispered of plans to leave by boat. He had crates hastily put aside on board once he found out that the novice escaped and the assassin being out and about finding him; more like tracking him down. The man was quite the predator and Lee was no professional killer to go up against him. He nearly stammered halfway through his plans until he heard a sudden explosion on the other side of the dock. He averted his attention from his plans for a moment, fearing it to be his enemy. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, but was quickly transmuted to an impaling fright when he eyed the assassin standing in the distance, glaring at him. A panic rose in his chest, running the rest of the boardwalk ahead, leaving his soldiers to deal with their inevitable death. He was sure that the assassin was out for his blood for he's learned from Johnson that the neighboring natives wearing war-paint and shaved their heads—save for the middle patch—when they were seeking to destroy their enemies in warfare.

He ran down until he stopped at a burning ship was under construction. It was a risky turn, but perhaps he could lose the assassin taking this route. Lee scurried down more into the flames as he heard soldiers choke on their own blood in the distance. He bumped into some slaves carrying cargo, knocking the crates into the walkway, but he knew better. It would take much more than that to slow down his attacker. No matter how many lines of fire he hid behind, Connor would manage to get past all of them; every obstacle was conquered as if they were never there. Lee kept running until he felt a surge of relief that he was near the main walkways into the city of Boston—

"I don't think so," Fillan smirked as he and other recruits stood in the Templar's way. They made no move to harm him for it was not in their place to. However, in Lee's confusion, they quietly snickered as they heard their boss close in. The raven-haired man huffed and continued his way to the rest of the dock that wasn't blocked off. The recruits thinned their eyes, seeing a tower of smoke forming in the distance. "Excuse me, ladies and gents. I have a damsel in distress to rescue—"

** "Not if I get there first!"**

The fast wind hauled by a horse's speed rushed past the group. Fillan smacked his palm against his face when he quickly recognized the horse… and its rider.

"You've got to be kidding me!" he fussed.

"How the hell did she get out of the manor?" Dobby joined.

"It doesn't matter how. It'll be bad if the boss—"

"I thought I ordered for her to be kept at the Davenport manor," Connor crossed his arms and his recruits straightened up. They daren't look to the eyes of their leader. No doubt, he was mentally bashing their heads in. The assassin shook his head. "I shall speak to you all another time. There is work to be done."

He sped off into the direction of the smoke rising from the end of the docking area. The Eagle Vision made good use in tracking to where his target was. He rose, climbed, and leapt over broken wood planks that were aflame. By the looks of it, this ship was under construction and someone purposefully set off the red barrels. Someone else was here—perhaps more of Lee's men. Once he made his way into the burning entrance, he discovered who. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or not upon seeing them.

"Oh…" the novice held a knife in Gillan's direction, "Hey, boss."

Angie gave a weak chuckle while she was still bound to a post that was close to going up in flames with the rest of the dry wood. The red-headed traitor only sneered, kicking the knife out of the novice's hand as she was distracted. Tsipporah wish she hadn't created such an opening for the knife was centimeters away from her eye. She didn't have enough strength or power; just will alone.

"Careful, Connor. It's all fun and games until—"she placed the novice in a headlock, "Someone loses an eye." The assassin made no moves. He only stood. "Now back away slowly…" he fought the grin that threatened to break his façade as he obediently backed away. As soon as he was in her preferred distance, Gillan heard creaking from above. She took a quick look upwards and saw that the ceiling was burning quickly, but it was too late to evade. The burning planks fell on her and the novice, burying them. Fillan jumped down through the hole he's created above, making sure he didn't fall into the pile. Connor rushed in, digging through to make sure the novice didn't receive the worst of it despite the planks blazing and emitting immense heat. As soon as Fillan cut Angie free, they joined in the quick search. In minutes, an arm burst through the rubble.

"Ugh!" the rest of her rose out and scratched at her burns, "Damnit, Fillan! Ah… that fucking hurts!" She quieted the moment her boss brought her to her feet. "Hi."

"Fillan, take Emily away from here."

"What about Sipsy?"

"Do as I say."

"Yessir." And the two dragged themselves out. He looked upon the novice and she gave a small smile as if she was waiting for him to say something. He shook his head, turning on his heel to get further into the ruinous ship as he was still searching for Lee. The novice still followed behind. In her state, she knew she shouldn't be walking around at all, but she couldn't help it.

"I thought I told you to stay at the manor." He hoisted himself up to the next floor and the novice followed suit. She made a grunt more to his attitude like she really did something wrong when she didn't.

"Let's get something straight here, boss. You didn't order me to stay at the manor, you ordered Fillan to escort me and Alsoomse to keep me there. I had no orders, therefore making your argument invalid. And that prick sealed my powers."

"Now's not the ti—"he halted his sentence as he sensed another presence. He turned to the side and found Lee with his pistol out, pointing to the two. The novice's eyes shot up when she heard the click of the loaded gun. There was no time to think or react. Connor took the novice into his arms and pushed themselves aside as the musket-ball flew dangerously. Everything happened so fast that the observer wasn't sure when they landed on the ground. She opened her eyes slowly, wondering if she was going to feel any sharp pains moving. There was no pain, but she heard sharp breaths sounding over her ear and a large body hovering over hers. Then warm liquid dripping onto her shoulder. Blood?

She looked up and her thoughts gathered what had happened. There was a spray of red on the floor and Connor was gripping his shoulder, grunting as he was getting to his feet.

"Connor! Oh, my God…" she scrambled to her feet, but the pain of her sprained ankle didn't let up. The two froze in their struggle as they heard a deep, sinister laugh echo through the roaring flames around them.

"Well, isn't this a pathetic sight?" he walked closer to the both of them from the corner of the room, "You thought killing me would be quite easy, did you? Spilling my blood would be a simple feat, would it? You mere children think the Templars would fall in your hands? No. The war is over. There is no more use for people like neither you… nor the observers." Connor gave his apathetic smile again, dropping his shoulder out of his hold and taking his tomahawk into his hand; his hidden switch blade in the other. Lee unsheathed his sword, smirking as if he'd already won. "We will win. We always win."

"Say what you will, Charles. But today _you_ will die."

Lee wiped his nose and went in for a full charge with his sword, swinging it expertly as the young assassin countered the best he could. Chronic stinging traveled his arm as he used the best of his defense and offense. He managed to make a few successful stabs to his enemy's leg and side before backing away. Lee kept his confidence twirling the cutlass in his hand. He made quick steps towards Connor, meaning to break through his openings, knowing that his injured arm wasn't going to do much. He swiped his sword at his bad arm and the assassin flinched, but made an effort to block the fatal blow to decapitate him. The novice was practically at the edge of her seat watching them go back and forth, spilling each other's blood. She knew that if she got in the way, Connor would miss his chance, but if she were to leave now, then Lee might smite the man to his grave. She looked to the hole that Fillan had created earlier, but before she could get any ideas, Lee grew some of his own. He started shooting in her direction, nearly blowing holes through her head. Soon, she tripped and fell flat on her face. She should have been scared for her life, but that was in the past.

She was smiling inside that she posed as a distraction.

"Connor, now!" she called out. Lee spun around and saw the assassin ready himself to lay a fatal blow at a distance. The opponent clicked his gun, panicking that he may have been out of bullets, so he fled further upstairs. The novice kept herself in place as she heard their footsteps fly to the floor above. They kept at it, but she knew what the outcome was to be. Besides, Lee was trying to run away for the most part; no way was he going to win this fight. She got to her feet, ignoring the pain of her injuries as she tried to hop outside—_a large clatter of wood sounded in the next room_.

Her body jerked up, instinctively sprinting to break through the hot wood that was in her way. She received more injuries and burn, but went ahead anyway. Once she got to her destination, she found her beloved on the floor under planks of wood, struggling. He brushed the other pieces aside to sit up, but even that was found to be agonizing. At last, he saw that a stray piece of wood had impaled him in his fall, so he gripped it to remove it. The novice knew that to be a reckless move. He would lose more blood this way.

"Connor…!" her head was struck the moment words came out of her mouth, falling to the ground and felt a weight on her neck. Opening her eyes, she found it to be Lee's boot pressing her throat. He smiled in delight of her suffering. What's worse is that he fixed the jam in his pistol, though it only had one bullet left. He turned his attention to the assassin… then it occurred to him. Why this entire struggle? Why all this fighting? What would be the point to his bull-headedness?

"Why do you persist? You put us down. We rise again. You end one plot—we forge another. You try so hard. But it always ends the same. Those who know you think you mad and this is why... Even those men you sought to save have turned their backs on you. Yet you fight. You resist. Why?" The novice felt her air supply give out. Her vision blurs. She would last longer if she had more strength. She didn't want to die. She didn't want… she didn't want Connor to die… Charles jerked a little as the pendant started to burn against his skin, causing him to drop his pistol, giving Connor a window of opportunity. However, he wouldn't leave his enemy's questions unanswered. He took out his own pistol that was ready.

"Because no one else will!" he shot Lee's abdomen and he fell to his knees, releasing the novice from the death grip. She sat up hastily, coughing; pinching the tension from her neck. The Templar coughed up more blood onto the floor as he stood, then made his way to escape. Neither of the Brotherhood members could stop him for they were in no condition to chase him further. The novice wanted to kick herself for forgetting to retrieve the amulet at least. _Stupid! Stupid!_

"Tsipporah…" a rasping voice called. _Oh…_

"Connor! Ah—"her scraped knees were stinging, "Can you get up, boss?"

"Yes," he used the wall as support to get on his feet. He took a moment to gaze at her. "You are hurt." The novice sucked her teeth in response.

"And you getting impaled, shot, and stabbed is just a small boo-boo. Come here…" she offered her shoulder, wrapping his arm around them as they carefully made their way out. He removed the wooden stake from his torso, which made her worry more. He'd lose a lot of blood before the night was over. When they were away from the flaming rubble, the novice stopped at an empty part of the docks to rest. Connor didn't want to rest, though. He knew, deep down, that Lee was still alive and still tried to run away. Tsipporah laid him down, ripping parts of her attire to put pressure on his fatal wound.

"I have to stop Lee… he's still—"

"That man is dying and you're badly hurt," she pulled out her unused knife and put it beside her before getting to work on undoing the buttons of his coat. He grabbed her wrist. "Dude, I need to get the bullet out. Here," she showed an extra fabric folding, "Bite on this. Taking it out blindly is gonna hurt like hell."

"I can do it myself," he countered. Despite his fatigue, he still argued with her like there was nothing wrong. She rolled her eyes and handed him her knife, pressing on his other wound more. She turned away, but occasionally looked to see if he was really—she turned away again when she saw him carve himself open, blood pouring out in a suspenseful flow down his arm and onto his cotton sleeve. It didn't do the novice well seeing him like this.

"See the musket ball yet?" she muttered softly, shutting her eyes tightly. He didn't answer, but a soft tap on the floor answered for her. Surprising how it didn't get too far in his body. He groaned loudly, dropping the knife from his hold, laying back into the ground with labored breaths. The novice flapped out the rest of the fabric she had as a wrapping-bandage. There was nothing else she could do at the moment but wait for the blood to stop. Connor admired how she tried so hard to keep him from dying. Usually, if her attire was disrupted or ruined, she would be angered to no end, but here she was: shredding every last part of her coat. Sleep started to overtake him as he felt weaker and weaker…

"AH!" she screamed, "No, don't die on me, Connor! I mean 'boss'! Don't die on me, boss!" His eyes shot open and he grumbled.

"Woman, I'm not dead," he growled, "I'm trying to sleep."

"Oops." She bounced in her seat, "Sorry. There's just so much blood…" her hands trembled at the sight. She ripped nearly several rolls of fabric to stop the bleeding, fearing that it wouldn't be enough. Connor laid with his chest exposed, breathing steadily. Suppose he was alright, but he had to be taken to a doctor after the shit he went through. The novice furrowed her brows, feeling nothing but regret—regret that she couldn't do more than this. He clasped his hand in hers.

"I am glad that you are alright. I feared that he may have… that you…" he trembled at the thought that Lee would take her life and he would do nothing but watch. Tsipporah brought his hand to her chest; caressing his bruised knuckle.

"You know that it'll take more than torture to get rid of me, boss," she joked. He didn't find that funny at all. Then again, he never found sarcasm that amusing, but the fact that she would be unafraid in using it somewhat calmed him. If he didn't feel so weak right now, he would bring her close to his own body for he still saw the worry in her eyes. She sensed her concern reciprocate in him. It rattled her nerves more than any shell-shock. "Yeah, I'll stop joking on things I shouldn't joke about."

"I told you before that I prefer you like this," he said weakly as sleep overcame him, "I would take nothing else."

"Connor…" she whined, "But I won't be here… if you finish this now…"

"(This is why I love you…)" he fell to sleep.

"Hey, Connor! Connor, don't sleep on me now—"his left arm pulled her down with purpose, bringing her next to him. She squealed at the sudden strength he still possessed even when he was down or maybe because she was still weak. "Shouldn't we go to an inn or something?"

"Tsipporah… go to sleep—that's an order."

"…" she knew right then and there that he meant for her to stay with him for he barely moved his arm away as it was wrapped around her shoulders. She tried not to lean so much onto his chest since he still winced in pain. Words almost passed her lips, but then she heard more steady breathing. The novice lifted her head to see his face. His eyes were closed as his face was completely relaxed and his mouth was slightly opened.

"He is sleeping," she whispered to herself, snuggling back to his side. She was sure no one would come to this part of the dock. It was really late; maybe close to midnight at best. They've been out all day trying to track down Lee. The fact that she and Angie would leave when Lee would die made her stomach turn. Part of her didn't want to leave—not just for Connor—for this place had much more adventurous memories and changed her for the better. She was happier here. But another part would stay in the time she was born and raised with her family. Her circle of friends was quite small and deficient. She would constantly move without making much of a mark in their lives. What should she do? The only things that she could do were leave with all this experience and live on… alone. The strong arm that held her pulled her closer for warmth. Her eyes soon closed to fall to sleep despite the heavy musings looming over her.

* * *

When morning came, the sun shined its merciless rays into the eyes of all who thought twice about sleeping late. The light especially woke the novice who was sure that she was in the shade of the docks… but wasn't. The ground wasn't at all hard and cold. She didn't feel the itchy cotton and leather strapping against her skin or the warmth of—she scrambled to sit up, finding herself wearing her homestead pajamas that were of light cotton. Her injuries were cleaned up as well. Anxiety raced through her body and spun out of the covers she was in, seeing that she was in her own bed again. Of course. The recruits were in Boston at the time. They _would_ search high and low for their leader. They must have picked her up, but where was Connor? She stood up, scratching her neck as she went to the window. The door behind her creaked open.

"He's not here," the blonde twirled her loose hair, "He went off to find Lee last night, but told the recruits to bring you back." The novice shriveled and paled, banging the window pane with a pulsing fist. "Glad to see that you're okay."

"But he's not!" the novice turned to her friend who was also wearing pajamas with wounds tended to, "He's hurt bad and the only thing he thinks about at the time is killing Lee. He's impossible—he's still impossible."

"Oh, Sipsy…" she came over and rubbed her comrade's shoulders, "He'll come back. He's too tough to sleep anyway. He waits."

"What…?" she looked to the side, "That sneaky son of a—he pretended to sleep! _UGH_! Why did I fall in love with someone who's just so—"she kneed the wall and a hole was instantly made.

"Whoa, hey! Calm down, babe! Fillan's with him. They'll come back."

"I know… I just wish he didn't…"

"Babe. That man knows you. And if he knows you, then he knows that you'll do anything to make sure he's alright. That's why he had you brought back here. He knew you'd be safe here. Now come on, there's food in the kitchen. Lord knows we haven't eaten that much since last year."

"Last year? We've been out that long?"

"Hell yeah. Beat you to the turkey downstairs." Angie dashed through the door leaving the novice to ponder at the window. She didn't want to just sit and wait like this. It was stifling. Sure, it was peaceful once in a while after a harsh battle, but it was a slow suicide to be in while a loved one seemed so far away… and will probably never be seen for the rest of her life. She shrugged her shoulders, walking out the bedroom door and turning to the stairs. Then she saw his door. It was still open. Maybe the maid was cleaning and forgot to close it. Whatever the reason, she went inside; looking around to see what she would miss. _No_. Looking back would put salt in her wounds, so she rushed out and down the stairs. Hunger wasn't even her first thought. Her body just moved on its own. She went past the front door, wondering where her feet might take her. _Achilles' grave_.

That's right; she and Angie were taken the day of his funeral. She didn't even have the time to honor him or speak her thoughts to him. She was glad that he didn't have an agonizing death. It was good that he wouldn't have to see her leave either. Connor would miss him the most, though. This man trained him to be the steadfast killer that he is.

"Oh no…" it occurred to her, "He would be all alone. Just him and this place; and his skills."

"You make it sound worse than it is, babe." Angie followed.

"No. Because I'm… I'm his…"

"You wouldn't stay because of him, would you?"

"Well, wouldn't you stay for Fillan? He proposed to you, remember?" Angie bit her bottom lip as a response. He did, honestly, and she said yes—without much thought. The novice looked back at the old man's grave guiltily. Backing away, she brushed her hair from her face before turning. There, promptly, was the bickering of the lumberjacks as if nothing has changed. She was going to miss that so much, but then their arguing stopped and changed into jubilant hollering.

"Hey, babe, Fillan's back… and with Connor. Connor's back!"

Her first reaction should have been something like a dramatic running towards him and cry hysterically into his chest, holding him tightly, but… nope. She picked her nails and sat down in the grass watching the neighbors run up to their town-leader. The blonde threw her head back in laughter. Of course her friend wouldn't waste her breath running up to guys even if it was her own boyfriend.

"Aren't you going to greet him?"

"I told him to go to the doctor first. He can go to the doctor and then I'll cry my sorry ass all over him. You go say 'hi' to your boyfriend—fiancé, whatever, but we'll have to leave. Ask him if he Lee's dead, too." Angie laughed harder, unsure if she was serious or just still tired. She skipped off barefoot to the group and they hollered even more. Fillan picked her off the ground, swinging her around before kissing his beloved passionately before everyone. The novice watched over her shoulder at the scene as everyone cheered.

"Connor, are you alright?" Ellen asked, "The whole community was worried sick. We made food for the girls and you. It's right in your kitchen."

"You'll have to come in my office right this moment, Connor," Dr. White insisted, "Those wounds look horrible." He was glad that homestead and its people were unharmed. According to Alsoomse, mercenaries tried to get in, but failed thanks to the recruits stationed here. There were also few natives aiding them as well. It did him good that his words bode well that Lee's attempts on his loved ones would fail. And speaking of loved ones…

"Where is she?" he nodded to Fillan. The Robber gave a sly smirk, gesturing over his shoulder near the old man's grave.

"She's not too thrilled about you sending her back without saying anything," Angie added, "Wait, boss. Did you… do the deed?" His silence was confirmation enough. The two love birds moved out of his way. Godfrey and Terry offered a crutch, but he waved them off and kept his motion. The novice heard him coming towards her. Or maybe to the manor's door; she wasn't too certain. Either way, she brought her knees up and curled her head in, hoping he'd go away. He didn't. She knew for a large hand started caressing her back, coaxing her to raise her head. She only answered with rude mumbling.

"Tsipoorah, look at me," Connor started to lose his patience as he always did with her. She finally unfurled herself, facing him. Her chest was heaving and her eyes swelled with pink.

"You got the amulet?" she sniffed.

"Yes."

"You killed Lee?"

"He is no longer of this world."

"So…" she bit her lip, "Me and Angie can go home now?"

"Once we meet with Juno."

"Go see Dr. White, those wounds look bad."

"Tsipporah—"

"I said go see Dr. White, boy are you deaf?" she raised her voice, "Don't talk to me until you do." She turned her back on him. Connor knew what was going through her mind despite not wanting to say it. Both girls were here for years. They have seen this place as home for some time. He wrapped his arms around her, taking in her worries.

"I shall miss you as well," he whispered into her ear. It made her shudder. She wanted to strike him for touching her, to knock him in the head for not saying a word to her before going out to kill, she wanted—she spun around and threw her arms around him, disregarding his wounds. The pain started to channel through his body again. "Perhaps I should see Dr. White now."

"Don't tell me that you'll miss me," she buried her face into his chest.

"Then what?"

**"Fucking nothing, okay?! Don't tell me a fucking thing! Just go to the doctor. I'd rather be told that you'd die tomorrow than to be told that you'll ****_fucking _****miss me!"** she started sobbing. She dreaded this day. She dreaded it ever since he kissed her, ever since he took her body, ever since… every day she didn't want to leave. But she, Connor, or anyone was powerless to stop it. He wished he hadn't said those words. It was a slow and painful death to know that she would one day leave all everything here behind. The first outsider he began to trust undoubtedly was scheduled to leave the moment he would go before the spirit. He didn't want that.

"Juno… would she let you stay if I asked?"

"…" she looked into his face, cheeks streaked with wet tears. Her teeth crunched together and she pushed him away, "Have the doctor look at you."

"I will ask."

"Then ask, Connor. I'm not stopping you. Go ahead."

He got to his feet. She wouldn't look at him anymore. It'd be too painful to. Every Templar he's killed has gotten them closer to this point. Every death of an enemy brought them closer to the end. This country would see its freedom. The road to it made her feel like she's actually accomplish something with her comrades, but… but now she doesn't want to be moved out of it. Never in her life did she end up doing unimaginable things and meeting phenomenal people. She didn't want to leave. The other men helped Connor get to the doctor's tent. He would look back every few seconds to see if she was watching him. It sort of broke his heart to see her like this. Months of imprisonment did not break her, departure from this time would. He didn't keep so collected when she left the first time; without warning, without a goodbye. He didn't want to do it all over again.

….

Six months more months passed and homestead was once again backing into the humid summer of noon. Connor's wounds were fully healed, yet the doctor warned that there will be extreme chronic pains due to the severity of them. Just about everyone visited him from day to day since he came back. He was grateful for everyone coming to see him during his resting, but there was one presence that failed to meet him. In that time he contemplated all that he had lost and what was to be gained soon enough. This country would be free; the people here would live in refuge. The day he was able to walk around without a cane supporting him, he went to find her. He asked everyone where she had gone—if she had run off to Boston or anywhere else. When it had gotten late, he found her in the sitting room of the manor looking into the fiery hearth, cutting her nails. He knew in the morning they would have to venture to his village to get the Piece of Eden to speak to Juno… and for the girls to leave. He pulled up a chair next to her, but she made no move to acknowledge he was there.

"Clearly, you are mad about something," he started, "You have not come to see me—not once—when I was being tended to by Dr. White. Speak your mind, what is the matter?" She fixed herself to avoid facing him, picking at her nails more abrasively. He didn't have much patience for her attitude. It was starting to piss him off now than ever. Connor stood and with one arm he turned her whole sitting chair around to look at him. She grimaced deeply. "What is your problem with me?!"

"What does it matter, Connor?"

"I haven't seen you in six months; you do not think it matters?"

"What do you want? Everything's over. You killed all the Templars in these colonies. Tomorrow I'm going home. What the fuck should I say or do? Smother you in kisses? Tell you how much I love you? Give you some this-is-the-last-time-I'll-ever-see-you-sex for good measure? Well, I won't—"

"Angie claims that you are still upset about having you brought back to the manor, but you seem angrier with yourself, Tsipporah. I suppose this is your way of communicating. I wonder…" he took her hand in his, "Why is it that I would miss this part of you?"

"Because you're weird, Connor," she retorted, "I know why I like you, but I have no idea how you could like me."

"I told you—you just have trouble believing me when I say it; that you are like no other woman I've met." The novice dropped the pear knife she held in one hand, tempted to put her arms around him. He would've accepted it, but there was something she needed to know. "Your fear was confirmed with Lee."

"What?"

"He tried to use the last of his ammunition to kill me, but he failed." He pulled out something from his side pocket, placing it in the novice's hands. It escaped her mind what it was. She thinned her eyes and finally recognized it.

"The ceramic medallion I gave our first Christmas…" she pouted, "It's broken. Smells like gunpowder, too."

"It saved me."

"Connor, I don't—"

"It matters not. I will still keep it as a reminder of you."

"I finished the statuettes," she responded quickly, "They're in the basement on display. I did new paintings, too. They're all upstairs. I'll keep my sketchbook here, too, if you want." He shook his head.

"It is not your talents I require or materials you have left. It is just you—alone. It is you I want." Her heart skipped a beat and she came closer to him instinctively… but paused to turn back. He wouldn't let her. He brought her close once more, molding his lips to hers. She whined of how her suspicions were correct that he wanted to smother her in kisses. He responded by deepening the kiss, "Only with you I would."

"_Gah_," she spoke between breaths, not resisting him, "W-What the hell are we doing? I can't be seriously doing this—"

"Silence yourself," he growled against her breath.

"Roger that, boss."

"What the fuck is this, Sipsy?" Angie walked in with Fillan on her arm. The maid meant to have walked in as well, but burst into giggles and backed away. Both the novice and the assassin slowly broke the kiss, turning to the small entourage with loathing eyes. The blonde has never seen Connor share any frustrated expression with her friend as a first while everyone else has.

"What is it?" he sneered, "You have seen me for six months and now you disturb me once again at the most inappropriate time."

"Motherfucker, you better have a good reason for not knocking the archway."

"We have a problem, boss," Fillan stepped in, "Your tribe… they…" Connor stood up, approaching his comrade. "They were moved out of their land by the new government the Congress has formed. They're traveling either north or farther out west. I'm sorry." Everything he had feared was happening. The British were being driven out due to the Brotherhood's efforts and that of the Patriots. But those who he thought would protect his people were chasing them off their own home. The novice quickly got out of her chair to get to his side, but backed off seeing as he was hot with anger with a tinge of sadness. Everyone knew how much his family meant to him no matter how busy they kept him. Tsipporah braved herself to come to his side, rubbing his arm gently.

"Calm down, Connor. At least no one is hurt—"

"No one is hurt?" he looked into her eyes with a determined fury before turning to go up the stairs. Angie and Fillan looked back at the novice, noting that she should go after him. She was reluctant at first. She avoided him for a long time. _Why would he…_?

"Come on," Fillan took her hand, "Your fella needs you now."

….

It was just as the Robber claimed, however, when they set foot in Kanatahséton. The villagers were gone. The fields were empty. The longhouses were void of any presence. Angie watched as her friend wandered around like a ghost on this now barren place. She picked up some long nets that were left out on an empty field while tossing it in and out of her palm. Connor immediately went to the longhouse that belonged to Clan Mother, seeing if there was anything important left behind. He looked about the interior that carried many memories of his childhood—both good and bad. He nearly stumbled in thought when his mother came to mind. He looked down to see that a familiar wooden box was near his feet.

"Why would they leave this behind?" he muttered to himself.

"Leave what?" the novice stuck her head through the entrance, then her eyes widened, "Wait… is that…?" Connor picked the wooden box open and the crystal ball that started their adventures gleamed before them. Angie and Fillan entered in as well. When the assassin took the Piece of Eden into his hands, it began to envelope the room with its potent light, erasing the dimension they were once in. They stood on a plane of light as the rest of the world went ahead of them. Suddenly, the two observers found their skin, bodies, their beings wrap in the light until they became something of spirits in long white gowns and crowns resembling that of the people who lived in the First Civilization. Both men stared at the women as if they were complete strangers. They acted as if nothing has happened.

"Ah…" Juno's voice rang, "Long we have waited for you to return. You have done as we asked. You have succeeded."

"No!" Connor argued, "I have failed. My people are gone—chased out by those who I thought would protect them."

"Connor…" a figure resembling Tsippoah whispered sadly.

"It is a trade. A sacrifice. And not in vain."

"For you have found it," she pointed to the amulet around his neck, "Now you must hide it. Where none shall think to look. And then in time… in time… what was shall be… again."

"I do not understand."

"She's speaking in riddles, boss," Fillan grunted. Juno gave an eerie pause.

"Nor need you. only do as we ask. Then you may do as you wish."

"But what of my people… what of…?" he turned to what should be his beloved, but she appeared as a ghost. His heart sank in to the thought that she was really vanishing before his eyes.

"You have saved this place—as was your people's purpose. And that's what matters most. Your observer has served her purpose. Now it is time for her to take her leave. Her time here has come to an end."

"No. It is not enough."

"It will never be enough. You strive for that which does not exist. Still, you have made a difference. And you will do so again. Come, Artemis; Ahprodite. You must return—"

"Is there not another way?" Artemis pleaded.

"We have spoken of this before. What you wish for—"

"Is possible because I wish it. My spirit—my power has never been stronger. I cared not for the humans of this world and their endless warring of greed and selfishness. It is all I ever hear. I can never acknowledge humans because they destroyed us… until I have met this one." The other two men gazed, puzzled. "Please, mother. Do not make me live in the present again. It was here that I have never felt more alive. Never did I imagine myself giving such a vital part of me to a mere human. He is honest, brave, naïve—yet his notions are what bring them closer to freedom. He does not deserve this treatment, this torment—these endless riddles you have left for him and his ancestors."

"Artemis!"

"'Mother'?" Fillan grumbled.

"I agree, Juno. But if not for him, for your daughter. She is more powerful than you take her to be. Do not let her leave the one thing she treasures most—he is a part of her after all." Juno stood quietly, looking back at the assassin with her empty eyes.

"He has done what we have asked…"

"What you have asked, mother. I may have information the future needs thanks to him, but the future alone is not what I desire." The white figure paused.

"You would say such things. You hold the power of the healer—the virgin. I know your trust in humans can be brittle…" the group waited for a refusal. Those who are of the First Civilization usually are consistent in the case of rationality. She would say for the girls to return home. She closed her eyes in thought, something so rare for a spirit to do. "It is in your nature to find one who is worthy of you—in all that you are. It is why you side with humans, my daughter. And love, too, is vital to Aphrodite as well. If this is your desire… then I shall grant you this: you may stay as long as your lifespan requires you to. Once your spirit is lifted, it will return to the temple and pass on to your present form where you triggered everything. You will be reborn into the time from whence you left in the first sequence."

The girls' eyes widened, unsure if they should feel relief or soak in the shock. The men wondered what just took place here. Before they could ask, Juno came to Connor.

"Remember, you must hide the amulet where none might find it…" she gave a rare face as the nexus faded, mouthing the words farewell.

Then they were again in the longhouse, standing in a barren village. The women had some explaining to do for they were still here. What did they agree to? Fillan gave questioning eyes to his lover as the boss did the same. Explain.

"Okay, babe," Angie rolled her eyes, "We are the closest descendants to Aphrodite and Artemis; that's why Juno complies us. The spirit of Artemis is Tsipporah as a human reincarnation. As am I. But enough of that! Sipsy, we can live double lives now! Whoo!" She jumped and wrapped her legs around her friend's waist. The novice was still stupefied of what her inner spirit agreed to. That was… unexpected.

"Angie…" she grunted, "Let go of me." The blonde stepped away, dragging her lover out the longhouse. Both she and the assassin were left inside in silence. She wanted to follow outside, chuckled nervously, and shuffled herself to the exit. He stepped in her way with an incredulous look on his face.

"So… yeah," she huffed awkwardly. All that drama for no reason—he may as well deck her now. "Looks like I'm not going anywhere… for the next 200 to 300 years. I'll probably wake up back to my old life when this is over." He didn't look at all happy with her. "I'll go flush my head down the privy-pot now." She tried to make her way around him, but it completely back-fired. Instead, he threw her over his shoulder in one sweep.

"Augh! What the hell?! Put me down, Shrek!" she pounded his back until they reached over the cliffs, "You better not fart. I will kill you because I know what you eat."

* * *

"Wait… so… she's stayin'?" Godfrey beamed, "This is great!"

"Where are they, anyway?" Myriam scratched her chin. Angie bit her lip, trying not to laugh. Ellen's daughter tried to shake a response out of her.

"Don't know, but I'm gonna get married to my baby!" she kissed her lover on the cheek, holding him a death-gripping embrace that he gladly accepted.

…..

The novice was thrilled to stay, but wasn't so sure if the assassin felt the same way. One minute they dreaded the end and now… now they didn't have to. In fact, it would work out in their advantage since Juno still needed her in the 21st century. It was alright for her to stay; for her friend to stay, too. She was glad. Connor was still trying to register what just happened, though—that he wasn't going to be completely alone. He stood looking over his mentor's things in his office while the novice was in the kitchen of the manor, gathering her thoughts. He looked over the letter he wrote before his passing; many things spiraling in his mind as he read. Some of the contents the letter held slowly intrigued him towards the end.

"Boss!" the novice's voice startled him so bad that he knocked aside a small, velvet box that was forced open on impact. Once he noticed it, he took it in his hands with his emotions on edge. "What's that?" the novice leaned against his side, watching his every move.

"Achilles left this behind. He wrote that he would want the both of us to have it."

"Or… me to wear it. Connor, this is an engagement ring!" the novice gasped, opening the small box. She closed it immediately, though, feeling that she ruined something. "Yeah… um… were you planning on using that sometime?"Connor gazed innocently looked to her. She bit the inside of her cheek. He probably didn't know what it was, which amused her to no end.

"Why?" he fixed his gloves, "I thought this was jewelry meant for women to wear." She cackled in his face rather loudly. He really didn't know what it was.

"Connor, Achilles said that this ring belonged to his wife and he's giving it to us to have. What do you think it means?" he stared blankly, "It's an engagement ring." She said deadpanned. Heat rose in his cheeks as she explained. The ring looked as if it was imported from French royalty. How that old man acquired such a huge rock was a mystery to her. The assassin kept his eyes on the ring like he was expecting a demon to jump out of it.

"Achilles would think this to happen—for us to stay together."

"Is that okay? Me staying here… with you?"

He turned his attention to her, taking her hand in his. His silence started to prick her skin something enthralling. Carefully, he isolated one of her fingers from the others, sliding the ring on. Her nerves started jumping out of her body, alive with energy.

"Your presence here is still much needed. And I would be remiss should you refuse this position I offer you."

"Oh that's nice," she gave a tight smile, "Should I hand in my résumé Monday or wait three more business days. Ugh! Connor, that's the worst marriage proposal ever! Just ask flat out if I want to."

"Then do you?"

"Yes!"

"Then there is no problem." She leisurely shook her head as she bit her lip, wanting to drown in her humored tears. It didn't matter that point. Connor was glad that Artemis herself intervened so that she would stay. She would stay and be reborn back into her own time once she was done with this life. It made his heart soar. He took this moment to take her in his arms, so she wouldn't leave so easily. She looked up into his honey-colored eyes—those eyes that always carried pain, inner dangers, and years of experience. Just… eyes that have seen so much.

"I think I know a place where none would think to find the amulet. But first, there are things in the basement I must dispose of—to be finally rid of."

"I know. Are you gonna keep your father's journal at least?" She felt his heartbeat quicken at the mention of his father. "I know you didn't want the old man to know how you felt about him. And I won't talk shit about it either. I won't pry any more in his things because it's meant for you alone. I'll fix the things that we don't need in the basement for proper disposal."

"Thank you," he took her lips in his before letting her go to the open corridor. She stopped at the archway and looked over her shoulder, then continued on as he watched her leave. He fiddled with the amulet in his hand in knowing what he had to do. He finally had an idea of where he was going to hide it. People of this time would never think to look in such a place for no one has disturbed it for a long time. Artemis herself said that she had an idea what Juno meant for the amulet to be, saying that the observer would make more sense of it since her knowledge lay inside her and him. What they have done here was a step forward into the future. The future the girls came from and will one day return to when their time here was done—a time Tsipporah thanked Connor for. All that she knew wasn't true at all. Nothing in school prepared her for this, but she was thankful for it. Something she was taught and something he deserved.

_The freedom._

_The revolution._

_The humanity._

_The truth._

_And now… each other's love._

* * *

"Hey, Tsipporah!" called out a fellow classmate. A girl of mocha skin and clad in black turned her dark eyes to the familiar voice. Upon finding the source of the noise, she smiled naturally.

"Hey, Angie, you want to go to Nino's today? I heard they have a new sub sandwich today."

"Sorry, no," her companion frowned, "I have dance rehearsal during lunch; Rain check?"

Tsipporah nodded in forgiveness. She knew her friends would always be busy and that there would be a rare occasion for them to have any time for leisure. President's Day was coming up; after all, perhaps they can have lunch together then. She wished they had time to catch up, though. Tsipporah had never stayed with friends for a long time due to past troubles, but was glad to see her friend grow; and what a journey that has been. Their phases branched from having unruly hair, obsessions with pirates and natives, adventuring in "darker-than-black" attire, and militant colloquialisms to fine young ladies. Tsipporah still obsessed over militant subjects, though. The phase of desiring to collect ancient weapons and maybe go to the ancient Mayan Ruins to find treasure hasn't died out.

Angie wandered off to go about her important business, leaving her friend to twiddle with her thumbs. She sighed and sat out in the hallway, watching other students go out to eat in groups. "I… am really bored right now…" she peeked through her lowered lashes to her pocket full of cash. "Eating by myself again…" she stood from her spot and left to eat when she swore someone had called her name.

"Tsipporah…" she turned, hearing her name once more. It sounded of more than one person and it was. Both her sister and the blonde had returned on the warpath. "You know what? Come to rehearsal. I know you'll love the dance."

"Oh," her sister pouted, "I thought she was going to be alone."

"Nah, sis," she put her arm around her beloved sibling, "Let's pick out something from Nino's because during arts I have this little field trip to the museum. It's an American Revolution exhibit."

"What do you know about the American Revolution?" she laughed.

"Liberty Kids prepared us for this moment!" Angie fist-pumped.

"Yeah… a lot of things prepared us for this moment actually." The Goth fingered a small ring in her pocket, closing her eyes to the memories she collected before, silently thanking the person who gave it to her.

"Come on, Sipsy! I wanna get a sub before the other bitches do!"

"Coming!" she came back to reality just as a young man brushed her shoulder rather rudely. She cursed at him with the same discourtesy. He turned his attention to her as if he meant to curse back, but instead he just openly gazed. She reciprocated. He looked like a man she's seen before. He looked… familiar. "Do I know you?"

"I think I've seen you before. I'm not sure, though. What's your name?"

"Tsipporah Martel. I go to this arts high school for visual arts. You?"

"Desmond Miles. Can't say much for me, really." She heard the girls call for her and he gestured for her to go to them. She shook her head.

"I don't usually do this, but… you want me to buy you lunch Desmond?"

"I guess," he rubbed his neck, "I'm kind of broke right now, your treat?"

"My treat. Don't get out of control, though. I'm not a fucking rich-bitch like the dancers here." He laughed at her vulgar language, elbowing her shoulder. It was a laugh she heard so much before. Because she was an observer, she remembered clearly on how he laughed ever so rarely. They kept their way down to lunch as she kept talking. Her sister wondered what had gotten into her lately for she never was so sociable. Maybe it was the field-trip coming up she was excited about.

"Yeah…" she sipped her shake, eying the hooded acquaintance, "_Maybe it is the field-trip_."

* * *

**I'm done. I AM SO DONE. Now for the DLC. It'll probably not be that long. I've finally figured out what kind of allusion I should make it for Tsipporah to fit in it again. I mean, when I put it up, I'll wonder if anything was thinking the same thing I was thinking when I first watched it. Anyway, thank you guys for sticking with me through the whole story. Thank you to the new followers who favorite'd this story until it was completely finished. My first fanfiction is done. SO DONE. **

**Thanks for reading! See you in the AC3-DLC sequel: ****Kahnawake Song II: Mad Memories**** :D**


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